She has stood longer
Opens a thin mouth to the wind,
Ejects it with laughter.
For here, the people gather
Clotting like leaves
Despite the summer
And their arms wander
Attempting to express time
With a significant gesture.
But the tree maintains her ignorance
For even as the sun climbs
She has seen it uncovered
Year upon year.
She projects her recognition of time
With her ceremonial clutter
Harsh and austere
Her branches beguile.
And sometimes, deep in her bark
Are the emotional imprints
With sick hands, glancing smiles
Of romance’s decay.
Yet people engrave their hearts
And ask her for answers
But still do not weep
As she collapses to flame.
No comments:
Post a Comment