Sun dots the oak canals of
His skin.
The branches wander,
Speaking to their neighbor,
They are all up in the Elm’s height,
Who is busy reaching for the sky.
Hello the sun, pokes through,
Coloring the trunk in grey highlights,
The brown gone ashen with age,
With time,
A long time stood, with small
Flowering beings at its base
Sheltered from the
Hello sun.
Picking up light from the
Sideway rays of late
Afternoon in June,
His skin feels the
Newness fading to summer
As July stills the breezes to heat,
But now, new sun and the coolness of Spring,
Highlight the canals of his skin.