a tree said to me

if you can’t speak

to trees

then how come this

tree in front of

me is asking me

to say hi?

his face is tired

and his shoulders are broad

but hunched

and his mustache

is hardly trimmed

he has eyes cast deep

a nose that droops

and legs limberly

thin strong too

but with all this

to me he

says he is sad

that the building

behind is unkind

and the cars

that roar through

are quite rude

he says the sun

takes time to

shine because of

modern architecutre

and as it sets

off go his bets

but somewhere

i see a smile

a sucked in grin

a reminder to

chuckle

his little tune

ready to be spun

nature’s last breath

he said go home

be simple