Women Trees Poem by Marieta Maglas

The hidden flowers
Are bud breasts
Waitin' for their colored bloomin'
In cups
On the tree old branches.
The moss growin' on its trunk
Is a green thigh
On its thin old cracked crust
Havin' swellin' whitish scattered areolae.
The buzzin' bee in its honeycomb
Is the voice of its heart lettin' out its sorrow,
While it is
Aerating its roots with softer mysteries
Growin' up above the ground.
Its knee roots allow the inflow of life
To the fibers.
This tree is, in fact,
A wooden woman statue
In my vision.

Poem by Marieta Maglas