Stumped
A stump squats on the ground,
flat-topped, lines showing an age
far greater than ours. This is
the marker where a tree once stood,
arching its limbs over our heads,
an umbrella for our rainy days,
protection from the sun’s rays.
They say nature raises our spirits
in these lonely lockdown hours,
dispersing anxiety, a sense of calm.
And so this tree did its job for us,
the power of green raining down.
We gazed up in awe of this giant
when we were small, clambered up
branches to see what the clouds hold,
listening to the whistling leaves.
We rested our backs against its bark,
almost wishing away our adulthood.
Who will be our leafy stand-in doctor now?
All I can see is a stump on the ground
where a man decided to cut it down.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, January 8, 2020
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