The Pine Tree II

Twisted and old, broken winding branches, and droplets of sap like the condensation on a cold coke. Through wretched leaves, shines pools of light and the feel of summers punch. The buzz of the powerlines, cut through leaving a shoe-shaped pinetree. And during the Autumn, when the apple trees, shed their clothes. Left is the shade underneath the pine tree. (This poem is built on from my other poem the Pine Tree and is about a hundred years after) -Billy Allen