The Trees Grow Out of the Air
A Broken Sonnet
The old contented gentlemen will say
That of the mighty tree; it grows from root
And over years of nurturing it may
Grow tall and broad from this established foot.
On this they will repose and gently sigh
When young men dare to dream of love so high.
How little they know of true love shared,
For no tree ever grew out of the ground;
They grow out of the air.
They spin themselves with carbon from the breeze.
A frozen wisp of crystallized sunlight,
Transformed by way of softly swaying leaves.
Their roots draw mother’s humid breath to height,
So that within and out she whispers clear
A rustling song the old man cannot hear.
Perhaps my sadness is of this,
That love concealed a secret never found
Until I felt your kiss.
One can’t unknow the secret once it’s shared;
Remember how it was
How wonderful it was
When we were free;
Two gossamer souls of sunlight and air.