I saw a billowing tree
which had for months stood
and soaked the sun's oils
into her skin
until she became
a flowering fountain,
--her yellow energy eruptive--
splaying herself
without shame
against a dark, polished sky.
She was herself...
and a living metaphor
of the flowering fountain
of me: standing dumb on the street,
blandished to throw my arms out wide,
while soaking in the infallible
golden waves of light that flowed
through a tree
like rivers laughing.