This rigid, ghostly stump is tangible.
It is no longer quick and malleable,
Green and thriving, satin wood.
Drained of viscous lifeblood,
Bare branches, angular and cleft,
And coarse bark, bristly and bereft,
Are a prickly pumice for cows and sheep.
The lightning tree can no longer weep
Feverish, waxy tears into sodden earth
To soothe barbed roots still anchored to its place of birth.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle Special Addition Touch “August 29th, 2016”
writing in north norfolk 
I really like this and goes so well with image. Great feel to it.😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
I photographed that tree on a walk last week – I had a feeling there was a poem in it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Awesome pic. Trees have personalities even when dead
LikeLiked by 1 person