The Canopy of a Nameless Tree

Writers love to sidle
Up to it, the nameless
Tree, just at the moment

Its canopy is full
Of afternoon shadows,
Just before the shadows

Fade with the loss of light.
It’s the moment after
The loss of light writers

Actually want to write,
But they can’t. Witnessing
Is impossible then

With no one and nothing
To write. They imagine
Anyway, bird shadows

In the thick canopy.
A shadow theater
Always requires the light,

And takes place on the side
Of the light. Only lies
Made of varying light

In the language of light
Speak of the loss of light.
Still the writers sidle

Up to the nameless tree,
As close as names allow,
And there the writers write.