Pause for poetry: Michael Hawkes /11


A poem by Michael Hawkes

Who can deny

That trees are sad

When losing leaves

To Autumn winds;

When sap runs dry

And limbs are tired

Of straining to

The cold winds’ whims;

When heart wood rots

To dust within,

When siblings have to

Prop them up,

When bark peels off

In sheets then drops?

Who can tell

Of trees’ despair

Enduring Winter’s ogling stare,

Unsheltered, naked, standing there

On carpets of their foliage?

Who can tell

If trees know time;

That Fall is but a solemn stage,

That Spring may well reverse decline?

Or do they suffer with mankind

And share an arboreal rage?

28/09/20 Hawkes

Feature image: Andrew Burlone
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Michael Hawkes - WestmountMag.ca

Michael Hawkes is an 80-year-old survivor of all the world’s wars. He learned (and loved to rhyme) by torturing the hymns he had to sing at school. A retired West Coast fisherman living in Montreal since 2013, he is an unschooled Grandpa Moses writing an average of five poems every week.

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  1. Jean Le Marquand

    I love this man’s poems. Wordsworth himself would have appreciated their
    lovely lyrical tribute to Nature! Can’t wait for more.

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