Sycamore on Sunart

There is a tree

on the shores of Loch Sunart,

near the heart of Strontian,

that is perfectly lung shaped.

Every time I see her

I let out a contented sigh.

Today was no different.

Last time we met

she was all fractal lines and

bronchi bare, trying

to hold her head up

despite the gales.

I’m glad to see that

she has been shopping.

In the warm kisses of May

she wears her new light green

dress and matching shawl

with elegant ease.