Holiday Poem - Amy Elizabeth Robinson

[Larry Robinson]

Holiday Poem

Everyone wants a piece of you.
Even the elderly oaks, their
branches draped with lichen 
lace, are reaching long 
limbs towards your body
as you pass. 

The demands are ceaseless, 
it seems. The ways to say 
yes, change direction, 
possibly crumble. Still, 
you let the branches brush you. 

Until you hear the rushing 
of the downhill stream,
the wide green hand of the 
mountain letting go, letting forth.

It asks nothing. 
You lean into, 
you follow 
that sound.


	- Amy Elizabeth Robinson
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