THE AMALTAS TREE

The rickety bench,
With half a leg gone
Trimmed by the rust
Gift of dews of the morn
Awaits me as the heat rises
Under the amaltas tree
Seat covers of sunshine yellow
My hideout, my sanctuary.

The squirrels dance attendance
Their half eaten scattered pods
Now claimed by lazy birds
Satiated in their congruent nods
The sultry warmth a harbor
For butterflies and bees
Who share my space
Under the amaltas tree.

The peace and the quiet
Beckons me as I fly
Through the chores of the day
And then on the sly
Slink away to my throne
Where my thoughts reign free
A world stolen from prying eyes
Me, my musings, and the amaltas tree. 

MS