Alive are the branches soaring the sky

Flowers are purple smelling to pride

Green and soft leaves allowing the tree

To breathe the excitement of being just

Free

 

Summer arrives and so does the drought

Oh the poor bloomer with tears it fought

The ages of water, the ages of rain

"No shortage of water may cause enough pain"

The Forrest did say

 

Branches brown, with mere winds they crack

Flowers now, smell, colour lack

Those leaves that seemed reluctantly

evergreen 

Were now cracking crystals only

Hurting

Mean

 

Though obvious it seems 

For you and for me

That water is all this poor tree needs

No flooding expected, just maybe a drop

A peck on the front, a hug and some words