Haunting Trees

A tree leans over me impatiently
Casting intimidating shadows
That darken the wood table
Where I lean over a pad of paper-
Its pages bristling sadly
In the wind- debating
The most effective metaphor
For the impression of people passing
Hurriedly but leaving their imprint,
Static and indelible
On my peripheral psyche,
Like a jet engine vapor trail or
A brush dragging pigments or
Simply a stain
On the stagnant atoms
Of the holographic sky;
While above me,
Leaves quiver in anxiety.
The trees are proud
Of what they contribute
To the leaping world,
To the extent that this is possible,
But the relentless dread of never
Being suitably appreciated
Is enough to strain
Their desperate tendrils,
Already in constant yearning,
And to knot and stoop
Their aging backs forever.