To A Tree Outside Ross Hall--1/24 (Ven's CW Poetry)

I wrote this for a poetry exercise today in Ven's poetry workshop. I sat on some cold concrete and stared at a tree for five minutes.
I think I like this class already. I like assignments like this, bizarre as they are.
I'll be posting some of my favorite exercises from the class, as much as Ven doesn't like prematurely published things. I made a couple random changes since I first jotted it down.
Enjoy the fruits of my frozen ass and open mind.

-d
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To A Tree Outside Ross Hall

O tree
Your sort of modesty frightens me;
The way you cling to your hair like Venus
quaking in her shell.
You are some sort of Godiva with your brown skeleton
holding on to your babies as they curl up.

O tree
in your concrete cape
where I sit discovering that maybe
you are more a woman than I.
In our sparse fall coats,
holding letters to a season we can't remember.

O tree
there is some sort of elegance
in your fingers, the way they hold your leaves
like the pages of a bible.
I want to lie a trash can next to you
and burn burn burn
until you start to glow.