a hawthorne tree stands

the hawthorne trees bloom white
on the rolling hills
a thousand years hang
amid the white and green flowers
and the thorny, twisted branches
follow tortured paths
in the heavy air.

blossoms make heady
strong and thick air,
it fills my lungs
i breathe it in

is the hawthorne
the tree, the flower
part of me now?
how could i tell?
they say the lowly grass
has evolved just for us
it grows to be cut, trimmed and mowed
just for you and i

is this what the tree
would have me be?

pollen in the air
pollen in my lungs
my blood
my eyes
spilling across
my vision
like a green wave
on the shore
leaving the jellyfish
stranded in the sand.

the white and green blosoms
hang in the air
and slowly sway
in the valley breeze.

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