The Aspens

This morning, I jogged on a familiar path near my home.

One that I tend to make

before the sun rises

the stars still shinning

the homes still dark

the streetlights illuminating my way.

A view that I tend to overlook

were three aspens planted on a small strip of grass

between the sidewalk and road.

The body of the trees so slim and flaky

it appeared

they had fallen to a deep

and sullen sickness.

The aspens stood as brave as they could

extended their frail arms to the pink sky

as the morning breeze allowed

their soft cries to be heard.

"This environment is quenching our thirst",

they cried.

"We are not able to thrive in this environment",

they cried.