Mr and Mrs Compost

Succulent, ready to be twisted off
The leaves are warm and the stones are hot
The distant houses seem to melt with the vast open glowing air
The almost steaming ragged wood of the oak trunks and the sweating walk
The ease of the wagging boughs
Layering wavering shadows

A story tells me that there is a couple there
Buried 'neath the twisted roots
Older than the tree itself
Older than the ruined farm
They lived there in the wooden days
wWhen hands were tougher than a plough
And will was stronger than the rafters of a house

I also heard their dog is there
Their bones are tangled in that tree
Side by side and holding hands and that's the reason why 
That tree is beautiful