Where the Tree Was

​My attachment to
her strength and her love ran
so much deeper
than I had thought,
even last summer
when life seemed a sunny green
bottomless ocean.
 
Now there is a void
where the tree was,
and I sit in the rain
and cry, looking up
for branches
to cover me...
​

But there is only
the sky,
gray, frowning clouds
and a mountain
weeping
as the axman wanders through,
and the mudslides
begin, shifting

the ground
underneath me.

©2017 Amy Freeman