In the soft sunlight of morning
this tree wears it hearts on its sleeve.
Ivy scales its bark,
mountain climbing
with tendril crampons
searching out each foothold.
In false symbiosis
the leafy-wife,
a black-widow,
seeks stranglehold vantage.
Death-bringer,
like a jewel
accessorises
in glistening frost
and, this morning, embellishes
in dishonest benevolence.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment