Spring rains soak
the Smokies,
swelling the Tuckasegee.
An ancient sycamore
leans like the Tower of Pisa
from the river’s bank.
Soon, huge green leaves will
unfurl.
How long can its roots
hold fast against its weight?
Only Mother Nature
and the tree knows for sure,
and they aren’t talking.
Tom Davis lives in Webster, NC and his work has been published in numerous venues. He authored several books which can be found at http://www.oldmp.com Tom has recently completed his memoir, The Most Fun I Ever Had With My Clothes On: A March from Private to Colonel. Tom is the publisher for Old Mountain Press since 1992.
Dear Tom,
ReplyDeleteI like your seasonal poems about the Smokies, another very nice write.
Thanks for sharing.
Best wishes,
Inge
Enjoyed your piece Tom, thanks for sharing with us.
ReplyDeletelove this, especially the last line, ha ha
ReplyDeleteHi Tom,
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this, your description was so vivid I wanted to be there. Thanks for sharing.
Hi Tom. Your poem makes me want to be in the Smokies right now. Nicely done. Thank you for sharing. Continued blessings!
ReplyDelete-MJ
(www.creativeinspirationspp.blogspot.com)
I liked this title Tom,
ReplyDeleteTo writing content of walking doing no talking
Knight Writer