Magnolias in the Wind

My friend invited me to go hiking with her in the hills behind our school. We climbed almost straight up it was so steep. Then my friend said, come on, come on, I have to show you this. We got to the top of one particular plateau where a magnolia tree stood at the edge. There was just enough room for the tree and us, stage and audience. Soft petals lay all over the yellow dusty earth.  The tree had been shaped by the wind, like a dancer in mid-motion.


High on the mountain, and far from the sea
I came across a magnolia tree
It stood on an outcrop, as plain as can be
All hunched ‘gainst the wind, dusted and dirty
Half of its petals were buried in scree
Its roots all curled in, like wrought filigree
Despite the stark landscape, rusted and dingy
Touches of pink fringed one side, hopefully
It grew and it frayed, but it held steadfastly
Knowing one day a local would say, “come with me.”


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