Tired Trees
The light or the morning is often seen,
From different perspectives of different trees,
Growing over time and space,
To make a day a day.
The colors spread into the creek,
And seep into fertile ground,
To let the world wake up,
And listen to the sounds.
The sounds that come with the colors,
And the sky's wonderful blue,
Are those of the birds and trees,
Being heard once again.
Only during the morning,
Do the trees ever try to talk,
Telling the world to be quiet,
so they can sleep once again.
I like trees who speak their mind,
I may be insane, but I'm quite fine.
~Author