small, bluish sinews branch into
One side of the trunk is darker
due to Sun exposure, with amorph
As it breathes blood, exhales warmth
to feed small hill above its flesh.
It’s like a map, containing my life line
trimmed at several places.
It used to go all the way around the hill.
Bark is depleted, almost erased.
I cannot count to see how many rings of heart
have left me?
Humming bird’s song
echoes my soul
in the upcoming dawn.
Maja S. Todorovic