Trees with dark green leaves

Pock-mark the urban landscape

Like beauteous sores.  Oases

In an otherwise unblemished bleakness

 

Out of place in their naturalness

Rooted in the brown earth

Amid the artificially stunted grass

With an innocent hedge there misplaced.

 

Trees casting their shadow

Providing shade from the sunlight

That gives them their strength and colour

A contrast heightened by the buildings’ drabness

 

Out of place in their surroundings

Grown dark with age

Amid the malnourished smoky air

With a lonely solitary atmosphere.

 

Trees’ branches and leaves

Sprouting above disused chimneys

Industrial funnels, aerials

And hardened rooftops set square

Against the world.

 

Trees stretching to the Sun

To avoid the suffocation

Of depressed high-rise structures

Silent still inert

That remain.

 

 

 

 

Trees waving to the sky

An SOS

 Saying: “get me out of here”,

Unlike the tall grasses in open meadow

That enjoy freedom.

 

 

Trees circumscribed by grimy artifice

 

 

Trees pointing upward to white clouds and blue surroundings

Acknowledge the wind

-On sunny days-

As the urban landscape is escaped

Only in cars

 

Their exhausted fumes

Lingering…………………..behind.

 

 

(Beep beep)