From a distance they are bare bodied statues with frizzy split ends.
Face to face as the bus draws near I see each branch is undeniably alive with their own idiosyncratic postures
Some twisted twig like; some sharp angled and austere, others appearing contorted
All bursting with organic vibrancy As the bus moves away I look back captivated
A weathered beauty in an intricate dance of fine and flamboyant gestures
Movements frantically abandoned in space
Yet still rooted in magnificently aged trunks
KEMI GEORGE-SIMPSON Via email
