Old, spotted, wrinkled—
testament to life well lived,
grand dad eucalypt.
Ancient
Yearn
Looking to the skies,
wishing passing clouds would stay—
forests and farmers.
Frozen
The last of its kind,
going bald, still bold, holds ground—
locked in time, autumn.
Goodbye
Fragile and fading,
welcoming clear tomorrows—
dying leaves, bodies.
Just arrived
Out in bitter cold,
settling down gradually—
fog, new immigrant.
