The elders

Shrivelling over time,

crippling under the world’s weight—

the ageing, the tree.

Morning breath

Waking blurry eyed,
though ashamed and regretful—
adult? Accepted.

Scene from picture books;
eye-popping and unreal;
sometimes seems nature.

Though they be dented,
deserving adoration,
are flowers; humans.

Full bodied, complex,
as rich, well rounded Syrah—
in your face, the sun.