Group Collaboration #4 / 2015
the barren trees
of the Allegheny
brush the rough
of a sacred
pull and sway
Winters come and leaves die..
I can mourn and blame the lifeless sky..
I can hate the barren land and cry..
But something inside me never dies..
It waits for the morning sky..
It looks for the fruitful land ahead, which may lie..
That something is hope..which never dies..
For it promises me the life, beautiful and high.