A Roadside Tree

Cars hum past,
Boys race far,

A few bees drone around my knees.

The road rolls on,
The sky stays vast,

Grass tells secrets to the breeze.

I stand tall, my toes sinking into ground.

They stretch and branch,
Moist with wet mud.

My torso lignifies in rigidity,
Its core a stack of concentric rings,
Coated in wooden might.

My arms fling into the air,
Always reaching out, reaching
For a higher tip,

From which bloom white magnolia,
Adorning a lush umbrella.
Shy, I lower my head into the green wig,

For a starling that flew past,
Returns to nest by my scruff,
And makes me complete.