Catching my traffic-snarl’d eye
As I queue for a place on the road
Between a rock and a hard place
I spy, beyond a Victoriana municipality fence,
A tall, slow-motion sky rocket eruption
Of a graceful firework tree.
It tumbles, turning in gentle stir-by breezes,
Teasing towards its arboretum lake-surfaced twin:
Pale bright green, every sparkle that unwinds
From the centre, arcing out,
Each to its own Nirvana-webb’d route.
Swinging to and fro on
God’s invisible parachute cords.
In a moment the traffic will move me beyond:
This tree will never be seen this way again.
This is a fairy tale tree.
It is indeed,
but,
d’you know
I’ll swear it was
Actually
there!
Driving – and queuing – the same road again yesterday I realised the tree was there, the fireworks not !
Perfectly captures a moment in time
This is lovely!
And that photo is beautiful.