Trees standing like telephone posts
Improperly put in, crooked and swaying
Crisscrossing one another as they move
In a soundless symphony of time and space
Unwinding so slowly they seem not to move
Yet under the grey cloudless sky nothing stands still

Under the grey cloudless sky
Under the sky composed of invisible clouds
Like sentences composed of thoughts
That all come out with the conjunction of a stream
Thousands of elements but one being
But when he took water he broke it

One tree stands apart, wide bodied and tall
As a man among ghosts
Those the images this the thing
Its branches, a forest in the air, spread above it
Stained down its berth the color of a frog’s belly
Like the cascade of blood down Christ’s body.
Shameless and old, full of an ancient glory.

Branches twisted and twirled,a matrix round the clouds
As if they constantly skirted sky borne objects
Just as blood vessels wind around life giving organs
Forming a dizzying labyrinth of life
These hectic cords of life are caught immobilized