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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PRUNED TREES, by GLORIA GODDARD
First Line: A thin shrill row of poplars
Last Line: And laugh -- derisively!
First Line: A thin shrill row of poplars
Last Line: And laugh -- derisively!
A thin shrill row of poplars,
Pruned to wall a road,
Stands stiff against the sun.
Each limb is cut to measure,
Almost the leaves are numbered;
Their thin heads thrust
Narrowed pain
Toward the uncaught sky.
Their beauty trapped, they stand
Defiant!
And burn their shadow bars
Across the road they guard.
Their leaves hum unlearned madrigals
To the winking sun.
They fling clandestine kisses
To a comrade cloud. . . .
With synchronized solemnity
They yield obeisance to the manor . . .
And laugh -- derisively!
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