The Canopy After the Storm
I’m soaked now. The light breeze makes me move back and forth. The rain has dampened my smooth bark. My roots were able to drink for hours. It’s been rather hot.
The morning after, I taste the rain drops that linger on the leaves. The birds have shied away today.
I’m not worried. They’ll come to land on my branches. Shake me, release the lingering drops and make it rain again on the ground below.
The rain coats you from within.
Now the squirrel eats my red berry. Did you know they taste better when damp and moist? Soon all the berries will be right for the picking.
A row of rain drops that clings to one of my branches looks like pearls on me. Even the vine that usurped it’s way to one of my branches looks elegant on me. At the tip of its budding leaf you can see a tinge of fuchsia. The first blush of youth. Ill let it be on account of its leaves looking like hearts.
Did you know my leaves look like spades in midlife and then change to fleur-de-lis when fully realized? Some are the size of a giant’s palm. I can cover a woman’s face.
But as a canopy I partially cover a lady’s deck. Limit the penetrating rays. I used to let the sun burn her. Now, when it rains, she stands underneath me, I protect her while she smokes her cigarette.
But I’m not just a canopy. I’m an Asian mulberry tree. I’ve been cut once but I grew back twice as big. I survived last night’s storm.
Verdant. Glistening. Lush. I look good the morning after.