Tracery reaches out like a sinewed hand
from beneath the aged tree.
Sculpted by no artisan:
defying translation,
demanding admiration -
the wonderment of nature’s artistry.
The invading creepers flow like tresses,
the sweet kisses of flame,
or the rising bodies
from judgement day graves.
A gnarled equine visage,
gentle with age,
looks out from its barky stable
on the enquiry of passers by,
while the chiselled stick-insect
never moves closer
to its face.
This is no tree
but a portfolio
an art gallery
for eyes that see beyond.
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