Shapely steaming trees make clouds of their own:
Raining daily on the rainforest.
Rumbling jungles serenaded by a clichéd cacophony of birdsong.

I love all trees wherever they are:
Pinewoods in temperate zones,
Palms on tropical isles,
Ancient oaks full of magic.

See breeze kissed canopies high in the sky,
Forests deep in mysterious gloom.
Let Attenborough portray the rest.
Tarzan and Robin Hood to reign forever.
Keep your axes and saws away.
Let’s plant as many trees as we can
And watch them grow.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\3\2021.

There on the wind
Is that a bird or just an image
Am I dreaming of something
Is anything real here

The woods by my house
They sway in the breeze
Picturesque in this dream
They shake their leaves as they die

The clouds are drifting
They are white on this gray background
Fluffy but wet as they go
They shake and they cry for the Earth

Is anything here real
It all looks like a dream to me
The birds are flying past
The wind blows across my face

You pushed her so hard,
to fly as high as she could.
As high as the mountains,
as high as the stars.
You pushed her so hard,
though she can't,
till she fell and broke her wings.
Now, her broken wings
could never fly,
can't even reach the tree,
she always dreamt to be.

A sky in purple hue!
Of turnips, roots, and green!
A purple-starred tree-blowing veil!
The stars in sky not black or mean!
And piercing winds that eat sinew,
That sheds the sky in fabric leaves;
I couldn't more describe this night
Its colours awe as I inscribe!

smoke across the trees
jade leaves whisper
swinging from the wind

Look at me
How beautiful I am
lushes and so green
roots big and shiny
Now I am sad
I’m standing all alone
There were many more
I’m all that’s left over
Don’t hurt me  
you are hurting yourself
and this whole wide world.

Shell ✨🐚

Street without streetlights,
not a star in the dark sky,
alone with my thoughts.

Breath flows out slowly,
the bright moon behind a cloud,
mist on my glasses.

Taken together
inconsequential thoughts flare
to dystopia.

The moon in the trees
transforms to a watching eye,
knowing all, and none.

Street without streetlights,
the gentle sound of my shoes
against the pavement.