A Body, a Tree
A white sepal falls, it is of the early May bloom,
it is of a blossomed tree
that smothers with the light yielding weight
of its insistence,
that it will be stirred with the gentle wind.
A bee can hover, intent
on its hunger for the floweret's soft pink nectar.
And the black body of the bee
is a deep night, its dawn colored wings
are a flutter of heart strings
that are plucked by the sound of the children
at their delightful play: shouts(orders);
laughter(independence);
a melody of youth sung
as the spring birds
weave a dance over the children's bodies.
A deflated shiny balloon
is the captive of the distant watchful trees
with desert-red buds,
whose limbs shape the faces of ancient spectres,
seen through the snow tints
of the wind blown petals milling an early May.
May 2, 2021
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2021
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