Auckland Poetry

Trees on a hill

The pair of hugging trees
looks like lovers, but they resent
each others presence;

meager soil, not much nourishment
around, nature doesn’t take any
prisoners… (off with their heads)

lately though, one looks healthier
than the other, it is winning this battle
of survival,

but will hold a dead body in its
muscular embrace, till the man with
the chainsaw does his rounds;

usually in winter when trees are
shivering and the foul smell of log fire
drifts their way

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