America: The trees sing of home…

by ahjotnaija

Beautiful. Poetic. Cool.

Pa Ikhide

trees3America. Morning, the skies have dandruff, the trees are draped in white lace, there must be a wedding somewhere. Dawn peers at falling leaves, anxieties dyed deep into trees, beehives in the woods, masquerades, moody deities, mourning the day’s war. The skies weep white chalk, trees, raging totems, gnash the teeth of wailing children, and gnarled limbs wag effete fists at weeping women. Across the gulf in the woods the trees stare at the car, glum. They know. The heart is packed and ready. They don’t like this leaving.

Grey is the restlessness of trees in the fall, breaking the waters of the birth of the coming leaves, victors of the nights of fading lives. Today is a portrait; lovely are the colors of fall draping the shoulders of trees. Brown gods mug for the speed camera. The skies have eyes. I love you. Do you believe the wind’s rush, do…

View original post 687 more words