TREE

The Observer's Perspective This adds an external viewpoint, highlighting the tragedy and beauty of the change for someone else. He walked two steps and touched A plant he planted yesterday. Sap came out of his hands into its veins. Leaves came out of his eyes into its branches And when he wanted to return He did not move from his place, His feet had turned Into roots. She called from the doorway, her voice a hook meant for a man, but it snagged on nothing but the rustle of new growth. She saw only a tree, its posture a familiar echo, and a spade, abandoned, in the shape of a question.