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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

I Drink to My Fallen Kindred, The Leaves

By: Steve Penkevich


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.


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.


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.


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