Bark
Torn from its master,
the tree.
A distorted shape.
Bumps of wood along the surface.
The shell where bugs
crawl and that children tear.
It is like the strong outer
skin of a crocodile,
protecting the softer insides.
Patterns lie beneath the surface,
tracks of insects long gone.
The skin is flakes of ash
from a fire mixed with
a dusty brown.
Kate