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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.