Esmeralda

Esmeralda Her hands waved in the sudden gust that led the Matron’s unspoken word to greet my nose with a fond welcome. An aroma that caused me to stop and gaze about Her easy repose; a jewel set in nature’s landscape. A maiden enjoying the sun in an afternoon bask. So I sat for a while enjoying her virtue as she offered me shade, This lady, tender in heartwood, whose outstretched arms Reach far beyond the measure of a sleeve or cuff. She comforts timid ones humbly dwelling among Wee cones and needles; sap and perfume. Autumn walks, find her standing tall, faithful, and confident. Caressing the ground with lullaby shadows that danced In the winds, or bathing when the rain, that came to say hello, Chased furry critters beneath her swooping skirt, And small birds, in the heights of her upper-most. A day spilled into the weeks that make a month And the lady I sought once more was sadly, Taken by the hand of the holiday and given To gathering and song, praise and adoration, Standing by a window, dressed to cheer all who came near. Now, alone, upon the ground on which her shadows danced She is left not far from the footing she once knew Slowly drying with calm composure, used, and cast away. There is Broken jewelry adorned on her body; glittering in the cold, silently, and Reflecting on the stump that gave her magnificence. The green glory at the side of the road lay fading.

Cawing ravens search for bits of popcorn tangled in the carcass, Poking at gingerbread crumbs in the dirt gathered beneath brittle branches. There is nothing there. No, nothing now, but a season of worldly tradition Come to a close once more, a disgrace disguised from everyone’s eyes under the soft falling snow. Copyright 2002 © Thomas E. Buccine Jr.