Old Things Are Cool. Trees Are Old.

Let your feet, let them eat

The heart of the street

Its glory its beat


Don't rush.

Lean a while. Beguile

Or talk to a tree.

"What have you seen, what have you heard?"

Nights, fights and sights so absurd


What of a life

Has it seen has it had.

Imagine the things, the things it did see.

Stayed in one place and with grace

Saved its face

Grew old. Grew mold. Grew leaves for the fire.

Gave shade. Gave syrup. Gave rides on the tire.


Oh tree oh tree let me stop sit see

Cool shade blowing and flowing not fleeting

Grass is my seat for cheeks for feet.

How can I be, be more of a tree?