Big, Old Tree

He stands tall,
This mighty tree,
He holds up the sky,
He holds it high.
The moss is soft and wet
And as green as a parrot’s crest.
The bark looks like it has been burnt,
About to chip away at the softest breeze.
The trunks look like they belong
To two giant elephants
With grey wrinkles like ancient skin.
You could trip over the roots,
They are so big and slippery
Because of the moss.
When you climb it,
You will slip right down
And fall to the ground,
Staring up, seeing trunks
Taking over the sky like a god’s hands.