A Dead Tree
A tree dying, roots now rotten,
onto the wet earth falls.
The canopy above opened,
open space and sun now calls.
Beneath the gnarled old trunk,
the broken twisted branches.
Seedlings race to fill the gap,
making most of these rare chances.
Over time as rain nourishes,
and sunlight smiles down.
Saplings battle, seeking space,
to wear the sun's golden crown.
Though one tree has fallen,
laid down to rest in earth.
Around it new trees are growing,
have filled that dead tree's berth.
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Comments about this poem (A Dead Tree by Jojoba Mansell )
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