In concrete jungles, he dreams concrete trees,
to knock at his window in perfect cadences,
as night lowers the sky and curtains run their tracks.
He sees seeds lifted in the air, blown high
to ride with clouds, on moth wings and
twilight whispers. The trees have seen him,
they know where he sleeps, watch them lean in
and put their heads together, to show him
imagination and free thinking, without and within,
in grey skies, under a metal moon, a triumph of green.
Ali Jones is a teacher and mother of three. Her work has appeared in Fire, Poetry Rivals, Strange Poetry, Ink Sweat and Tears, Snakeskin Poetry, Atrium, Mother’s Milk Books, Breastfeeding Matters, Breastfeeding Today and Green Parent magazine. She has also written for The Guardian.
Foxglove Journal 