Tree’s A Crowd


I wonder if the trees mourn the colourful death of their leaves.

Do winter nights feel colder?

Do the branches reach restlessly into the dark

Twitching along to the breath of the wind

Longing for the familiar touch of summer?

Does the bark of the oak grow thicker over time

Out of nature

Or is it out of necessity?

Little loves springing from buds full of promise

Only to fall.

It’s the way of the world

And it’s ok.

If the trees feel the sting

Surely that means spring

Has the capacity to bring

What was lost back to the earth

And air

And everything in between

Has a time and place to be.

If trees can try again with the same enthusiastic burst

So can everything else.

The oak might reach for lost leaves

But instead find perched

A blackbird full of bones and life

Eager to fill the lonely hours with song.

Trees might mourn but the morning will always fill the sky.


Megan Hopkin



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