The Termite

The termite,
Rubs its frail antennae against the light!
And the tree,
Silent,
Looks at its eternal companion, the wall.
The pregnant shadow of yesterday,
As if it has given birth to all memories,
Frail and soulless,
With eyes as hollow as the light,
Touches the untimely presence of time.
…
The termite,
Smiles!
And the tree, with its leprous throat,
Takes flight.