Shade

A tree drew its own

Sketchy shape on the ground

Marking out leaves

Where the sun would have cleared

A blank page on the grass.

It colored it in

With purple and green

And blurred all the edges

Where the wind swishes past.

Then it proudly turned 'round

So the whole earth could see

And savor the sight

From every angle

From morning to night.

And it wept till the dawn

When its art disappeared;

Through the dark, moonless night

It shed star-like tears.

And the morning that broke

Broke against weary eyes

Like the tide folding in

On eroded, black rocks

With suffocating sighs.

The tree marveled to see

On the tear-bedewed ground

The painting renewed

And still swinging around.