Late Afternoon

Loving to sit at my new outdoor writing spot. The late afternoon is warm, not hot. The vines on the fence still have some flowers. There is only the faintest breeze stirring the palm fronds; I can't feel it.  A small butterfly flits among my thriving green weeds. 

Tree Gesture

That bare branch extends 

like a naked arm 

from its clothing of leaves,

the forked twig on the end

a thumb and pointing finger.

What does the tree want to say, 

gesticulating thus 

in graceful elegance

yet so significant?

'I am here,' it says. 'Here I am!'

'Here I am!' it says. 'I am here.'

(For Mindful Writing Day 2012)