Demise

Old stone pine under stress
sags on fused backbone,
Pale needled, threadbare dress
tattered bark unsewn,
bald skeletal egress.

All savings withdrawn, spent
and lavishly thrown
with prolific intent,
Profuse burnished cones,
a profligate descent.

Three years in the making,
these cones are slow grown,
Brittle limbs forsaking
bud to overblown,
fecund undertaking.

Flaunt open oil-rich prize,
willingly condone
the azure-winged magpies
collectively flown,
procreation's allies.

Generous, reckless, brash
extravagance prone,
Defiant seeding flash
botanically known
as passing with panache.

poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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