Thursday, May 1, 2014

A quiet morning

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


  1. I know this family (but, yes, such individuals) - cool poem, thanks

  2. Glad 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! :)).