the leaves are dead,
even some trapped beneath the slick arctic coating.
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
its family gathered around bare and ugly,
its kin scattered throughout town
crushed under sneakers
pissed on
shredded by tires.
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
alone
stranded
on unwelcome ground waiting to give.
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
seagulls glide down expecting a meal.
curious scamper across their natural feed box.
unleashing an assault against the foreign figure till their beaks bloody.
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
seagulls retreat
frozen, wet, warped, cracked
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
seasons come to pass
natures warmth-glowing
illuminating the surface,
reflecting rays like a mirror
while layer by layer erasing the solid ground.
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
cracked
shattered
solids isolates from liquids
then submergence.
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
blissful trip floating through serenity
air bubbles making their homes inside cracks and pores
yet not one cry from the reckless branch...
a new entity with a new purpose
a new existence amongst new breeds.
a new life
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