A branch extending and bending in the wind,
Would gift it's leaves to an unshaken night.
A chilling flow to unshackle - would sway
Like a snake's tongue - their brittle brown from
Crisp wood finger. And the growing heat from an early sun would pull and stretch and carry them
Back through the roots and the bark, around the knots to burst through the edges and paste the night
A deepening green. Settling, a blossomed fog would
Seep beneath a dirt thick plow to spin and sew life-threads. Unbridled twining would boil through the surface and extend its arms to the sun.

A car alarm would ring in the street.