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)