Root & Flight

A black metal tree spreads its arms on the wall,

With three little birds that have answered the call.

Roots reach below and the branches climb high —

While the birds keep the space between earth and the sky.

It hangs in the room like a quiet old map,

Of staying and leaving, of root and of flap.

Not only the growing, not only the nest —

But the moment of lifting that follows the rest.

Choose the size that fits where the stillness feels right,

Then let the dark tree and its travelers keep watch through the night.