Poet tree

Roots so ancient,
branches patient,
waving in the summer breeze.
 
Springing sheets,
of brand new paper,
waiting for a pen to speak.
 
Gentle rustle from the wind,
seemingly giving me a hint.
Soft creak, a whisper, just for me.
 
Some inspiration,
with lively imagination,
sunlight shining on a bright idea.
 
Branches kiting,
leaves with writing,
hanging from the poet tree.

Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 17-06-2022
Inspired by a conversation with @alyssa_harmon_