Dead & Dying—Trees & Dreams
My branches spread out sideways
as well as up & down.
Lying flat upon my back—
my roots in air & ground
Oh, what a massive storm
that tempest must have been,
whooshing through—intense, it blew
against my chest & chin.
I marvel at the Summer sky, so blue above my head.
Fading thoughts, and parting shots, until I know I’m dead.
She’s the tortoise, running slow and steady
Hoping to capture the hare, when he’s tired and ready
She knows good things come when worked at a steady pace
He’s aware that he is her prize…
…but only flattered by this chase