Weeds

scrub photographer shelli carlisle

These days are like trees…
Not fanciful willows
Or the grand colorful oak
But more like the
Scrub that infests the deserted hill sides
The uninviting stumps
That you keep thinking will
Someday grow up to be something more
But they never do
They always remain
Unattractive
Off balance
Twisted, scraggly, insufficient
Like a big weed
That has gotten out of control
For lack of attention
And what can I do about it?
Nothing
I lost my pruning sheers
Many many trees ago

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