I see your head poke
from a cloud of leaves;
your sap-stained legs dangle
beneath a limb.
Some days you climb further,
to the high branches,
frighten sparrows
from their narrow perches.
In winter you are easily seen
carving graffiti into the bark
with your laser eyes;
four initials and a heart.
I am content to swing low,
absolve myself with hemp,
twist tight, let go,
lose control.
tk/August 2013
Thank you, R.A.D. Stainforth, for this beautiful read.
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| Jeanie Tomenek |
