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 spilt 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.