Sveta Guralnik


Don't call a tree a tree


Don't call a tree a tree
The world is full
Of grace and silent laughter
Constellations
Of dusty flowers arise
From air so thin
So icy-blue
Through all the heat and sweat
Of noisy day

The petals are the wings
For us to fly away
Some time
One day
They cringe and shrink and fall
To dust
To rust
The wings are weak
Are weak enough for us

Don't call a tree a tree

Submitted: Tuesday, March 20, 2012

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