Lookout

A tree in accidental contortion, raised from several roots, each with a ground tenacity close to malice, venous, arterial in the asphalt trail, looking for a quiet twist of fate in an oblivious wait for a snap. Years of the same that can be traced to no bygones, the smallest shoots forgotten. Green keeps returning mercifully to the crown, and leaves it remorseless, with nearly the same rustle.