Marcescence

We stand on the side of a hill
a beech tree and I, as the 
cold January wind blows between us
rustling its lingering foliage and stirring my thinning hair

Its leaves are bleached brown and brittle, that beech
devoid of the green that gave life in the summer sun
They hang on because of the tree’s inability 
to let go of what it does not need anymore

Marcescence, the trait is called
I linger a moment, thinking on that
then turn and walk down my winding trail
holding tightly to a few things of my own

14 thoughts on “Marcescence”

  1. Great word marcescence Tim. I have also used it in a poem about autumn leaves. I love the clever construction of your poem where the end of one stanza with the words, ‘They hang on because of the tree’s inability to let go of what it does not need anymore’ leads to the final stanza and its concluding gentle reflection upon your own withholdings.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Alan. This was a fun poem to write because I really have recently stood with a beech tree on the side of the mountain, and I really do hold on to things I needn’t. I just had to figure out how to put it all in words.

      Like

  2. It’s definitely hard to let go of things sometimes. I like your poem. Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com

    Like

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