Tree & Earth, Mallorca
A quick reflective poem I wrote sitting under an olive tree eating a date on this day ;
Sunday
is tuesday and tuesday is thursday
day, night, morning light
under a tree that births seed and flesh
that falls and rots
and sinks back below the earth
rocks scattered, broken, fragmented
move, just, in the wind?
or
stay solid, connected
until another solid meets, collides
does a tree falling make a sound if we do not hear it?