I Drink to My Fallen Kindred, The Leaves

By: Steve Penkevich

I.

I salute the efforts of trees

Stretching towards a sky always out of reach,

Disrobing from their gold to

Stand naked and unashamed

Of their twisted bodies,

Their gnarled appendages.

II.

The moon is polishing tree limbs tonight–

A silent bartender with her glassware watching

Over the quiet din of closing time.

The stars nurse the dregs

Before tossing a few coins onto the table

And vanishing into the streetlamps.

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S. Penkevich is a West Michigan poet. Their work has appeared in Junto Magazine, Bellatrix and The Offbeat Press but you likely recognize them from the bar.