the trees, in this light, look like arteries,
like veins, precise tendrils,
branching out from the aorta.
the grass is turning green and the birds are chirping,
squirrels are skittering after each other,
but the trees remain impassive, internal,
coldly reserving their new life.
the ground is pregnant with flowers and the sky is blue and clear,
but the trees are skeletal and grey, like corpses.
the soil has woken and it is pushing upwards and outwards;
the trees cough and choke, they shudder,
blood running back through their veins.