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Bonsai

By Stephen Denham

 

You’re still with us, Peter -
aged and shrunken still …
just arboreal; spirited
 
among the boughs of the
pot-sized Moreton Bay fig
you bequeathed us, before
you skedaddled upstairs.
 
Olden limbs stretch happily
upwards and out in our verandah’s
breeze and shade - leaves lush warm
in the sun or deep glistening green
in the drizzle; cyclically
 
verdant, thriving,
failing, falling.
 
James Beam aside, you always
preferred your generous clique of
angiosperm, your sacred
inflorescent kingdom …
 
to the company
of humans.
 
Now, Lilliputian in your majesty,
it is you who accompanies us
through the seasons, asking
nothing in return, save a good
morning sparge, amid
 
reveries of your crusty
quips and King-sized
smiles.

 

This poem is a public submission created for Red Room Poetry's New Shoots digital poetry anthology

Go to New Shoots Public Submissions's profile to read more poems