Mystical tree


Mystical tree,
you know me.
You know my pauses,
those spaces between.
You ignore those tales
that foolishly ignore
the woodiest of truths.

You excel at forgiving old gusts
that speak as if vibrant green
is the only sound
and see petal soft pink
as the only sight.

You are no sapling,
and you don’t seem to mind
your yellow, reds, and browns.
Your spots and broken branches
tattered by experience, by time.

You know, more than I,
that things cycle back.
That the reality of time
is that it catches everyone,
eventually.

Old trees
stand with their branches
spread wide.
Their imperfect trunks
bent proudly.

Providing shade and support
for those elders you ignored
when you were a cocky greenie
who has begun to comprehend
true worth and beauty.

Mystical tree,
I know me.
Thank you.

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

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