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The Ghost Tree
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By Rich Tassinari
Other Poems by Rich Tassinari


          The Ghost Tree

Where endless flow of ocean waves
Along the western rocky coast
Roll up and over ancient graves,
There stands a tree folks call a ghost.

As if it fell from grace, alone,
Preserved by guilt’s unyielding breeze,
The tree as dead as sun-bleached bone
Intrudes upon the cypress trees.

Still, every spring the flowers grow
And blossom jewels on the sand,
The seasons visit with the flow
Of past to present o’er the land.

The setting of the first day’s sun
Is re-enacted every eve
To settle where red-gold rays run
As if to bless and give reprieve.

Rich Tassinari 3/3/2016

 

The ghost tree is a dead cypress tree still standing on 17 mile drive in Monterey CA.


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Submitted: Friday, March 4, 2016

Last Updated: Friday, March 4, 2016

About the Poet
Husband, father, grandfather, and each title is my joy. As a youth, poetry was a means to express the inexpressable. I was attracted to (and still am) the beauty and brevity of verse. All flows out from God, and like a proper prayer, can flow back.


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