It’s rugged, the trunk of this grand tree
Taller than which I’ve yet to see
And down below, an oval clearing
That could have sported a fairy ring
Holding fort in a mid air nest
A sprightly squirrel tries hard to rest
While this tree bears, a lovers mark,
Multiple sonnets thus etched in bark
Strange times of self incarceration, these,
For the modern humans, habilis
Quaint notions of holding a hand
Do digital natives quite understand?
But the breath of Spring is a grand affair
For thoseĀ alive, love’s in the air