slight echo footfalls
fluttering escape of breath
cool cerulean breeze
gnarled tree leaning too keen
in the brilliance of the waning sun
black, scorched branches
twisted cruel trunk
crackling like struck obsidian
by the lightening rod of thought,
gifted with moving feet
shuffling in one direction
but to breach the swimming sky,
peeking closer
shadows careening towards
my feet, so I can't see
where I am stepping anymore,
a stone gargoyle
fixated like a barn owl
eroded eyes and mistaken beak
moss blanketing like heavy
screaming clouds,
this stone owl
imprisoned within the tree
the loveliest sight I could find,
it's almost night now
and the light is growing dimmer,
the slightest green buds
dwell on the withered branches,
yet the sun has past
the owl mistaken for a ghost
held within the throne
withered to bone
but I think the flowers
will grow like before,
the buds have swelled
night is falling
can I please sleep
at the trunk of this tree
so upon the breaking morrow
the sun will shine
and I can smile
when I look up
and see the buds
flower of such
humble desires