have I let myself
be rooted in the
shade of others?
Have I turned my leaves
toward any shiny object
mistaking it for sun?
Do the twists and turns
of my journey
gnarl like an oak
or splay to the sides
like a cedar
solid trunk and
feathery fronds
facing the sky
entrancing strangers
with the fragrant tales
of a life that has
weathered sun
and storms
bark rough
patterned like henna
with a story all
it’s own
—
April PAD day 3 - a smell poem
