Fallen Angel

Pristine blades of green wave hello to the blazing sun
and layered concaves of magenta petals rest in the shadows.
The petals twist upwards,
beckoning angels to come and bless mere mortals,
that sit beneath the intertwined bark.
Colours of soft pink drift through the surrounding air,
once small sparks of life that had been attached to a trunk,
made of smooth bark.
Buds of deep-coloured crimson steady their petals,
waiting for a sky filled with pollen and buzzing beauties.
Beaks, bark and stingers thrive amongst the feathers of fuchsia,
chattering and humming in chorus with the mild breeze.
The soil that coats its rounded roots,
smells of fresh water
and the dew that polishes the soldier’s swords of green.
The tree is like an angel itself,
fallen to rest between the soil of man.