A Tree Stands Against the Sun
A tree stands against the sun in protest.
A girl bathing in its shadow there
Allows the wind to shake her tress
The limbs, the bough, the stagnant air
And brings them to the moon
Who waits on the otherside of somewhere.
At the height of noon
When from the wooden breast the shadow shifts,
Her body is revealed sitting there,
Whose mind, amidst the leaves, drifts
To a rare and silent spot of land
On the dark side of the moon.
Facing the sun, she is skin and bone
The bark dried and frighteningly bare.
In the light she is alone
Sitting under her lover’s faithful care
But longing for his mighty hand
To, by the call of Cupid, lift
Her to the shadows on the moon.
