Salvatore Ala

Trees walk out to sea,
Waters encircle them like floating barrels.
Tall mastheads with green sails cross the sun.
Thick lateral roots act as rudders.
The trees plunge in rogue waves
And trim sails, following a tree star.
Barely visible now, cargo birds break free,
Clouds of them on the horizon.
The last tree to cross,
Branches brushing the backs of elephants.

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