Celina Adrian

30,185 poems read


the half chopped cypress tree
has lost its crown
yet its minds eye holds
many secrets of passerby's

it shares it sap with foraging bees
nesting birds tucked secretly beyond its leaves
doves crying from its butchered stems
the sound of the perched owl is ominous
with death or fortune - 
depending on which way you view it

it has lived long
this cypress tree
at a time ripe in history
when humans and spirits alike
have generally been

I pass by
until today
of how it observes my energy,

and in this single moment
of time
where I am
a temporary unfamiliar
many more years
will come and go
with names
its branches will never know
but the souls bark
will always sense the fragrance
of every aspect of this life

one day
I, like everyone who has come before me,
will plant a strong memory
in the cypress tree
even when the scent of me
will inevitably