The Tree |
The Tree
Noble he stands alone,
proud amongst his peers
as he stretches high to the sky
with each breath of air he breathes.
His many arms spread out wide
gracefully sway from side to side.
He stands,
spellbound by the warming breeze
that tenderly drifts between the trees.
.
From the tips of his fingers
sprouts a lustre of greenery
and, with the passing of a gentle breeze
the rustling of his leaves
are heard to gently whisper
his dendrological history.
The evening moonlight reflects upon
his mass of tangled leaves
and shimmering, they mesmerize
the migrating birds to seek
shelter for their eve.
Bestowed upon him, as they alight,
is their birdsong -
that serenades him sweetly,
to sleep.
Like talons, his roots firmly grip
onto the origins of his birth;
embedding themselves well within
the untilled land
of sweet,
Mother Earth.
When he no longer stands erect
and his leaves are scattered;
dry from death,
exposed will be the rings he bears
as he lies half broken, a solitary wreck.
Revealed to those, whom,
might one day care
are the years of history
he once possessed.
Like the rhythm of our hearts
he has been vital from the start;
and with every breath he takes
we are able to partake
of life upon our planet -
Earth.
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