Side by side on roadside knoll
Stood leafy tree and telephone pole.

The pole need not attend to growth so was keen on observation
And after observing many years it struck up a conversation.

"Why does man respect a tree when for itself it grows
While pole lights his house, his road, and labels where he goes?"

The pole elected to rephrase in hope of being better understood:
"Are we so different, you and I? We are both composed of wood!"

The tree took in the battered pole- it leaned slightly to the side.
It sported attachments of every kind and rusty staples marred its hide.

"Yes, I suppose, of wood are both made we,
But a lifeless pole are you, and I a living tree."

"A living tree, indeed, as idle through Winter it sits
Doing naught but shedding bark as a twisted pile of sticks
Then in Spring, providing homes for many pests
A platform for the villain woodpecker's messy nests
In Summer arching branches and shady canopy
Are still no match for the cool from my electricity!
In Fall dropping litter on the street in every rain
Clogging every gutter, blocking every drain!

What use are you to anyone but as fodder for the ants?
And fate can take away the life that in acorn's heart it grants."

"O pole, with rectilinear shape,
From your metallic yokes your thoughts cannot escape!
In winter I take the shape of something lately killed
But all who pass only see a promise waiting to be fulfilled.
In Spring when up at me the weary passer glances
He catches sight of my flowered limbs, iced with second chances.
In Summer with my branches clothed and bending low
All are lost in rembrance of summer times from long ago
And when the city's heart is freezing and storing winter's ire
I call my brother trees together and Autumn sets the world on fire."

"At the loss of a single life- all life together grieves"
Said the tree with softer voice like wind's whisper through its leaves

There was a pause, the pole was remembering
It still wore no expression but its wires were gently trembling

"Ah, but I was once a tree.
They cut me down to make this pole- who will grieve for me?"



************************************************



"See these two?" Interjected a country man below.
"Hear how they groan in age? I think they both must go."

...

It could be understanding or the settling happenstance requires
But the pole became fast a friend and there are branches through its wires

And so they stood, side by side, enduring erosive creep
And their life and death passed by, and neither dared again to speak.


---zzzzaaanzibar

WOW!
What a cool poem! Did you write that one?! If so- you should really look into publishing a book!
» Rachel (71.237.5.36) on 2007-04-19 11:22:33

That's a really nice poem. Very... professional sounding.
» randomjunk on 2007-04-19 11:38:08

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