Silk Cotton

It stands there,
Proud,
Vain,
Tall.
Three feet away
from the street.

Like a summer queen
imprisoned in chill walls,
Suddenly set free,
It sheds the old,
Dons the new.

No more green.

A few noons ago
It stood naked,
Showing off slender arms
and cinnamon skin.

Today,
It burst into
incendiary blooms.
A glossy red,
Shiny,
Like a favorite lipstick.
Young again,
Magically,
That old Semal tree.