Nameless Yellow-Flowered Tree

When Summer combs her golden locks

And lets a strand fall,

It reaches the earth and seeds

The nameless yellow-flowered tree.

Crooked and bent, like the old wizard’s staff

But still young in the warmth of sunshine

Its lithe rigid brown body beckoning

The sweet birds to come, and raise their young.

Its boughs bowed with flowers

Pastel yellow, like a child’s drawing of the sun

The jealous sunrays sneaking amongst them

Trying to absorb some of the pure yellow.

The green leaf-eyes of the yellow-flowered tree

Laugh, and let the sunrays pass

Knowing they can’t steal beauty

But only enhance it.

The dainty blooms hang in the sunlight’s way

Glinting like golden ichor

From Summer’s wounds,

The wounds she got while battling Winter.

As the yellow pixies perform their ballad in the wind

To the symphony of the rustling leaves

Their shier sisters look on, admiring

Peaceful inside their green cocoons;

Pearls adorning the summer-tree’s scented hair.

One day the chicks will break open their emerald eggshells

And open out, bathing in the fresh air and sweet sun,

Introverts finally finding a friend

To confide in and tell their secrets.

The grass at the summer-tree’s rough feet

Mirrors the painting above it,

Fallen flowers interspersing its green

A naughty little child, copying its parent.

The yellow-green tapestry is interwoven with blood

By the hibiscus tree behind, its flowers red

With the blood split in the battle

Between Summer and Winter.

This beauty is not eternal

But it is perennial

For the Summer-tree is but a blooming bush

Sleeping and waking with the year.