The trees sleep in,
standing up still
Birds try to wake them,
back off; chill
The wind snores,
a tickle at the tips
Light dresses day,
takes its time; drips
The sleeping trees
take on personalities:
Father Totara,
big, bushy and brusque
Mother Liquid Amber,
changing colour to suit us
Teenage Cabbage tree,
spiky-haired, lanky, lean
A trio of trees,
a quiet morning family
I know this family (but, yes, such individuals) - cool poem, thanks
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked it, ye who planted two of those three personalitrees...(just thought of that word; spell-check doesn't like it - but I do! :)).
ReplyDelete