Words from Inside My Head

back then, in Spring as if newly budding leaves
sprouted from my branches; in Summer, happily
breezing and whispering about; then in Fall
wearing unmuted colors to surprise the eyes.
These days, when after my nap I awaken,
fading hair frazzled and unruly, looking
more like a Buckeye in Winter,
hairless limps unwilfully gone wild,
creaking against the ill winds,
more often I’m mistaken
for a wandering elder
needing to be led
back home.

Annie Blanchard
published in Ripples. a Literary Magazine
Vol. 11, Summer 2024
p. 24