The Tree

by Michelle King

Upon a summer fleece of woodland’s best,
I lay beneath a spiderweb,
Myriads of atoms all tumbling one on top of another
Reaching for the blue dawn’s spectrum and a midnight moon.
Past the chlorophyll (still the chlorophyll)
Of honey sap, rubber walls and growing rings.
Inhabiting this regal figurine.
Some atoms sang inside the ring of time
And time again
I heard their song, untouched by time.

Michelle King’s home is in the hills of Pennsylvania. She travels the world through literature and a myriad of thoughts.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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