I like J.D.
Salinger’s pine trees–
white like he is,
so white
he looks like winter,
old man winter
with bark for skin,
enduring Dachau’s sins
all these years
with his love of innocents,
still standing with boughs so protective
weighted by snow
still standing
over piles of broken limbs in the early spring.

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1 Response to Jerry

  1. This is a lovely poem, Jon. Thank you.


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