Against the slope you lean
You feel more secure that way
Boughs greet the light
Bole stands behind.
Bald under the sky
all bark blemished
Moss moisturises your craggy features
like an old old woman.
Once again with day brightening
You will put on your new spring bonnet
And parade this little Road
with your finery.
Weary from the walk
I stand and admire you
and look forward to your green hat
topped with an orange bill.
