Identity Crisis

Could you be that gangly tree,
Wavering in and out, in a state of dreams,
Swaying softly to meet the breeze
Established in our memories.
Revealing sigh, subdued whispers of secrets told;
Echoing throughout time,
Chiming out for young and old.
Do you remember that one red rose
In a garden made up of all white!
What about that pesky bee
Buzzing busily in the afternoon
Gathering nectar to make its food;
Clueless, naive in its progressions.
I'm Curious.
Have you been watching that humble bird?
Soaring swiftly through a Monday sky
Just living life until it dies,
Nature reaching out to humankind.
But I wonder, do you hear its calling?
Silenced by industrialization, and the environment's destruction.

by P. C., Stoughton, MA