The Golden Tree

 

There’s a golden tree outside

I’m not sure why

It isn’t autumn (late April),

No time for anything to turn

Maybe sunlight is passing

Through half-leaves left

From winter,

A batch that somehow clutched

Though the colder seasons

 

I don’t know, and in

A good way I don’t care

It is a patch of gold I see

First thing on looking through

The slats of mini-blinds

(don’t care for mini-blinds),

A gift of gold for no reason other than

I happen to look outside

First thing,

Catching rays through

Angles of the buildings,

Lighting up what otherwise has

Been a sullen street

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Simon Harmer on Unsplash