Parallel to the Sky

Slender limbs fan out,

Parallel to the sky

Instead of reaching,

Wanting to be the open blue,

Accepting that

Though the tree will never

Soar so high,

Its beauty

Stands alongside it,

Just smaller,

So only those

Who put a pen

To paper,

An eye

Through the monocle

Of their hope,

Can see the branches

Cascading to the moss-bedded floor,

Sweeping

Across the dew-sparkling grass,

Soaking up every drop

Of love,

               Of beauty,

To make every petiole

                                         A petal,

Every leaf

                   A blossom,

Rising

To the miracle of earth,

Still parallel

To the sky,

But also

To the tears of its roots.