green, green everywhere
one tree no longer blooming—
beauty of the bone
Turning to look in the direction of birds chittering, my eyes look up at a tall barren tree, lingering there. I take a picture. Two men passing by, curious, ask me, “What did you see?” I pointed to the tree. They look up a while then pause to say, “We’re travelers, we go all over the world—Marrakesh is next—and everywhere we go we love looking at dead trees.” They smiled, then turned to go on walking down the trail.
There is it a certain loveliness—a beauty of the bone—one sees in a leafless tree. For some it is the promise of spring to come. For others, the remembrance and longing for what once was.
