Trees Here

Here down South we need every one. A natural boast from the sun. It gets hot around this joint. Have you ever found yourself looking for one. To sit under. Never mind there is no breeze. Just to block a little bit of the suns rays, eeze. Some, maybe even most. Would immediately think of none other than a hung throat. When you mention a tree down South, you see. I think of me. And how I can't be another persons shade due to their own masquerade. This tree that I am is not yet named. Its fruit arr not allowed to be strange. Branches of chains. A trunk of intertwining indestructible veins. I have no roots, yet I am immovable. When seeking shade, many have found me unsuitable. Reason or season? My leaves are thoughts and experiences. Tears take credit for their inner denses. It gets hot around this joint. Surely the slaves did not fear the trees here.