Distractions

I sat in class, bored, 

And was distracted by the textures 

 Of the trees outside our window, 

Their bark so gloriously wrinkled by time; 

Their roots so broadly anchored in the earth. 

I kept wanting to take their picture 

While the light was still so perfect — 

Knowing, as one does at this age, 

That light, while it highlights 

The depth of those wrinkles, is a gift, 

 And fades all too fast. 

I confess I was grateful to escape 

 And focus on the trees…