Bad Year
I spent this year among the trees
who, today, aren’t talking about
how bad of a year it was.
When they reflect, it’s about rain
soaking into their rugged skin,
the sun hot against the veins
of their leaves, and even the storms,
straining their cracking sinew,
but filling their limbs with songs.
Even talk of loss is talk of color,
and they swear their fingertips
just brushed against the clouds.
It’s not about the grayest days,
the snow swirling on their shoulders;
it’s the way they stayed standing,
reaching for each other.
Devon Neal (he/him) is a Kentucky-based poet whose work has appeared in many publications, including HAD, Livina Press, The Storms, and The Bombay Lit Mag, and has been nominated for Best of the Net. He currently lives in Bardstown, KY with his wife and three children.