The old tree stood alone in the overgrown cemetery at sunrise
singing winds toying with her clacking coat of leaves
her wavering arms extended out
over thistles and milkweed, flowers and grasses.
Browned summer fronds
flew from her
floating happily to Earth
eager to touch the soil.
I watched her for a long while
from my shelter among the headstones
and just as the sun came over the hill
the ancient one
waved her limbs,
picked up her roots and danced.
©photo and poem by caf