The Ghostly Dilemma of my Excalibur

The trees--they quiver with life.
Yes, all around me,
They shake with strife.
Their bones, bare of bark,
They're stark white cast in dark.
Sister stars shoot to earth,
Little pricks of light plunging-
Down--I despair;
How will they breathe with so much air?
I stare at the village from atop my hill.
How can they live where there is no will?
A grinning dandelion sprouts at my heel.
How could I love if I cannot feel?
The wind slows to a stop and quiets the night.
How shall I proceed when nothing feels right?

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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