“The Tree” by Barry Brown

A noble tree stands
its tanned skin almost glowing
in the Caribbean sun
the ocean looks on admiringly
clouds hesitate and gaze before passing
even the wind spends time to fondle her leaves
and carry their memory like a scent
but while the fawning eyes of every crab lingers
and the dead ears of empty seashells listen
for the song of a distant forest
but the tree has taken a bed of termites as lovers
and the consummation has begun