Little
Tree
The little
maple tree
young and
unused
to “how things
are”
stood red as
fire
dressed to
call attention
to her beauty.
Her fate was
to stand
alone in a
small clearing
in the forest
on the mountainside.
She trembled delicately
in the cool dawn breeze
still in the shadow
of older and taller
trees.
When the sun claimed
the clean, cloudless sky
warm golden fingers
touched the crown of her
head,
moved downward
caressing.
The leaves began to fall
as they were touched.
They rained directly
down
mounding at her feet
like a robe dropped
seductively.
When the day’s light
bathed the entire tree
she stood naked
as a concubine
prepared for the
Emperor’s
pleasure.
El pas del temps [Over time] --Francesc Estall
Nude Under a Pine Tree -- Pablo Picasso
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