Retirement Home

There is a row of dwarf trees
tangled with proximity.
Their gnarled, arthritic branches
scratch painfully at the wind.
On each black and spindly bough,
from the scars of fallen leaves,
hang clusters of bright berries,
like beloved ornamets
of forgotten holidays,
and the crows feed upon them
as if it were meant a gift.



happiness dances
across the footpaths of life
like dappled sunlight