Trees

The child sings
as she walks through
dragging her hand
against the crumbling
stone wall

New white blonde
hangs in braids
plaited and tethered
baby blue and satin
swinging

She dances
towards the hydrangea
and under the oak
her song is growing louder
as she leaves the path

The sky cracks
and she moves
undisturbed
the melody
never faltering

She rounds the king
his bark is old
and falling back
to the earth
like snakeskin

Around and around she goes
until, at last
the braids disappear
and soft movement hides
her voice - trailing behind