Oak tree like a gnarled arthritic hand
jutting into the sky black and bent
knobby knuckles, twisted swirls and burls
appearing ancient, energy spent

Dry leaves are sparse, barely hanging on
and are missing in many places
Branches and twigs like a skeleton
which ghostly tule fog soon erases

Phalanges fan out like ten fingers
a magical deck of cards concealed
Suddenly there’s a puff of cold wind
with a dozen blue heron revealed

Ruth Hill was born and educated in upstate New York, and traveled North America extensively. She is a Certified Design Engineer, lifelong dedicated tutor, and enjoys spoken word. She has won 1st prizes in Gulf Coast Ethnic & Jazz Poetry, Heart Poetry, Lucidity, Poets for Human Rights, and Writers Rising Up. Over 250 of her poems have won awards or publication in the US, Canada, UK, and Israel. She welcomes email at ruthhill@joiedevivregardens.ca.”

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