Grey Hairs, Little Minds

Tree tops touch skies, tower,

Then, fall to Time.

Saplings spring tender roots,

Skyward, seeking the sun.

Trees, tower shade

Over growing growth.

Rip not tender roots, Trees!

Shoots wait growth, not the dirge

Of swinging winds blown branches.

Teach tender shoots touch skies

Time’s young.

Mend motiveless malice,

Skyward grown trees.

Light and dark seen,

Time inevitable,

Trees grown grey.

Pull, push not young plants,

Grey wisdom share, not save.

Grey bark’s yours now,

The green growth – Time’s plan

For younger roots.

Written during PG.