Sun rays from Trees

Sun rays slip through a patient tree,
Threading gold between leaf and limb,
Each beam a whispered memory
Of mornings born on chances slim.

They scatter light on bark and stone,
A quiet fire, a softened gleam,
As if the day has briefly known
The gentle weight of how to dream.

Shadows tremble, stitched and torn,
Dancing where the breezes play,
Dark and bright are gently sworn
To share the truth of light’s delay.

Beneath that crown of green and air,
Time loosens, learns to slow its pace,
And all the world feels briefly fair
Held in the sun’sSunrats from Trees