What Trees Can Mean

Three different pairs of eyes had seen, A tree at the same time in different places, Seeing what to them a tree did mean, Unbound by temporal tense and spaces. The first had seen a tree bent in a breaking arc, From the rot of a melting Winter dew, Bare of the before-breathing leaves and bark, Which once spewed his dioxide as clean O2. The second had seen a silhouette, When he saw a tree within his gaze, Which aimed at none within its hazed vignette: The locus of focus shaded by his daydreamt daze. The third and final had found a tree, And looked upon its being, And saw each piece of tree an eye can see, That’s worth a sight deemed worthy of seeing. Although each set of eyes had seen, A different tree their seer saw, Each had seen the same tree they saw to mean, That which their mind’s eye happened to draw. Although each set of eyes’ mind’s eyes, Had drawn a different tree, Each was disguised as failure to synchronize, My mind as its sight splits mine from reality. 5/22/18