Aged wooden tentacles stretch towards the sky, gnarled and dignified with age.
They push upward breaking ground
miles high.
Foliage sprouts, blooms, reflects, and falls.
Dead among us… the living,
survived by the lush greenery.
Billions of the green soft razor-edged blades which
help create the scenic setting
pad the tread of man and beast during
Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring,
Rain, Shine, Snow, or Hail.
In the distance colossal concrete monsters rise.
Just another part of the picture,
another piece to the puzzle.
Another evolution of Mother Earth’s tentacles.