no matter how i try,
i can never do justice to a tree,
at least,
not how mama could see.
the way the sun reflects the sheen
of their assorted hair styles,
such calm creatures i’ve ever seen.
harmonious and ease,
a symphonic flow
of morning breeze.
they never complain,
surrender tears
to ax, borers or pain.
the artistic, often animated patterns of light
and shadow at play as scintillant streams
twist and shimmy through the canopy,
coloring the canvas floor.
never do they cease to bring forth
their prostrated crops
of geometrical shape each season,
habitually chased by grand conspiracy
of sublime blush at summer’s end,
until their ever graceful death.
my perception is unreliable,
less i behold myself.
how splendid you are,
even in your death
i am covered and warm.
you extend my sight and ear,
with vision to hear.
by K. Osei
nature7blog 