CIRCLE TREE

 

I see a small tree in the middle of a city sprawl.

Concrete surround tries to hide delicate green leaves,

rusty iron railings vie for rain to rust arm thick trunk. Support.

A finger up to Man’s straight lines and dirty office blocks.

New green leaves spring forth in Spring,

trying to live in a seasonless place.

I sit under thin sparse leaves wondering

if any more trees will ever be here?

To end this loneliness and make a pair,

be almost human. Breed, family?

You just need yourself, not more trees.

An island of a single tree, here in the city.

One symbol of my Pagan religion, of life.

Not to your capitalist money grabbing ways,

mobiles, filofax, fast car and more in your ineffective

short life.

Cut this tree down, it will live on in mine and people’s memories.

“Look, that’s where that tree was all on its own, I remember it now.”