Poetry of William J Remski

Tree of life, upon this hill
Where only deer have trodden,
Through the snow, ice crusted
I climbed, following silence.

As I stand beneath your branches
Scented of orange and rosin,
And the sun veils itself in cloud
I’m washed by warmth.

From this vantage point
I hear the world in the distance.
A sea of noise and trouble
Beyond this sphere of sanctuary.

Tree of life, so small and fragile,
Leaves like scaly corals,
Green upon this ashen snow,
Ancient beyond understanding.