A chaos of you

The trees are a chaos of you.
They climb from the soil, clean
in their unpaintable colours.
Every lilac blossom an idea,
every snakebone branch a desire,
every breeze that moves them an unhad adventure.
They dream, rooted, of the hills beyond their kerbside.
And in the autumn, unexpected, but meant for the moment,
their dreams are carried away to be born.

People stumble as they pass, on rough pavements in the sun,
caught out by their strength and silence.
There could be ten more watercolours, and still
they would not understand their own beauty;
like the wind, their transparent power.