In the hue of a spring afternoon,
Where the bright whites splotched
Saturated with oranges and yellows,
The blur of green bled through,
And came into focus, came into view.
Sat there, in front of the house,
Bottom-framed with stone,
The tree itself stood by
In all its humble roots.
He came to know every family that moved
In and out over the years,
And through all strengths of weather he stayed
To live another day; day after day.
It was around this time of year, however
The waving breeze flips and turns around his leaves
On the branch ends with a knowing gesture.
The orange and yellow sunlight rays flicker through
Projecting its shadowed figures across the trunk,
And the light show in between.
The tree enjoyed it all,
The only time of the year it saw itself again.
And it would only see itself again, day after day,
Day after day.
