The skin without was clearly lit
They saw yet, the surface remained clouded
To see a bird but not its leafy perch
How does that work I wonder?
Sometimes the forests seen
But not the trees within
Sometimes the pictures clear
And yet the details lost
Today
I am
The
Tree
And lost in foggy climes
They hear my song yet see
me not.
I see a tree in your form. your poems are a rarity
~Z
Regis
Edwin