for the wind:

nothing in the world is as tall
as my tuesday trees.

their zeniths soar above me
like so many swallows,
dawdling in summer breeze,
soft sway seducing sunlight.

she is drawn to the sun.

their branches ascend from their trunks
as though reaching out for God,
million leaves choral
in whispered prayer,
reverent as the infant's gaze.

she sometimes looks at me that way.

in ultimate ascension
of these giants
one would find himself omniscient,
staring upon the tops
of humanity's heads,
and in this forest of people,
only she could be distinguished --

she glows.

nothing in the world is as tall
as my tuesday trees.