Poetry, Grades 7 – 9: Third Place

Ill-stricken Birch Tree — Poppy Nussbaum

In the cold,
all alone
an old man withers before me.
His frail limbs have begun to fall
for all of his children are long gone
 
The pale skin on an expressionless face
has now wrinkled and dried
wearing an orange belt around his waist
sealing his indefinite fate
 
my soul sinks,
for now I know
that time is not on the side
of the man in the snow.