Wink

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is awake!
The breeze fans her,
sends purple sparks springing
out and down.

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is green, grown, beautiful.
Curved, supple, tempered and strong.
She answers the warm wind with a quiet laugh.
Her speech is smooth. She does not blush.

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is moulting, dissipating.
The wind loosens leaves at intervals.
I never see the break: only
one second, the fluttering;
next, the whirling.
I can’t pinpoint the instant of death.

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is skeletal.
Her structure groans in the icewind.
Gravestone or ghost?
Purple buds wink.

(First published in Pixel Papers)

What do you think?