# A Tree
Ring upon ring, on an old trunk,
Years- dove’s circlings amongst birds:
The generosity is holding
Nests in palms, coverings are leaves.
An ant running for shelter,
Branches are the way to home.
The deep desires are buried
In earth, in joyous roots.
The autumnal fear is spring’s festivities.
Circle upon circle. Amidst humans.
And all. Ghosts and fairies.
Neither speaks, only listens.
The sounds are echoes of zephyr,
Not roars. You hold no mirror but,
A shadow in blue ink to the moon
And a soft shade of sketch to the sun.
Patriarch Grove Sunset: By Ken Lee
Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest near Big Pine, California, USA
Comments about this poem (# A Tree by Sadiqullah Khan )
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