Unplugged Plum Tree
With age and with wisdom
at last I can see
The waste of my years on
a gnarled plum tree.
It moved not, it spoke not,
it featured no screen,
Its colors but off-pink and
gray-brown and green.
The high scores I’ve forgone
for a rosy-fingered dawn!
The Netflix binges lost
tracing patterns in the frost!
The Snapchat hours wasted
actually tasting what I tasted!
The pop charts left unheard
just to listen to a bird!
I confess, I regret, and
I deeply repent
Each analog minute I’ve
recklessly spent
Sitting, just sitting, and
trying to see
A shaggy and craggy and
unplugged plum tree.
(words and photo by Sarah Hinlicky Wilson)