The Poinciana Tree

As the seasons pass through the years, And with the clouds the thunder flees; I can look up through the tears, And there stands the Poinciana tree. The red cardinal and blue jays, The doves and crows flew to it, A shelter at night, a place to stay, They are welcomed by it. The fall takes its leaves, Coloring the ground in green, The spring in coral weaves it, The flowers bloom to be seen. To the top the squirrel climbs, Looking for the long seedpods, A meal in the tallest limbs, As the Poinciana quietly nods.

Strong winds sweeping thoughts, long forgotten, long dormant, Swirling them back to the conscious mind, to the grasp of the hand, Where their visibility invites attention, begs for it, and claims it. Friendship ties resisting the elements, the ravishing storms, Hiking high over the mountains, and falling down on the valleys, Seeking to retain the laughter, dry the tears and move over the pain. Feeling the warmth of the human touch, pushing through so much, The heart catches fire, intensifies the search, through the sands of time, And illuminates the mind, reaches out, and follows the signs. KS