Each a Tree
We are each a tree in the beside a great field-
we attract are own champions
as we also draw our own ruin.
Booming savages brimming with self,
squinty-eyed imperials of what we recognize
from the far side of a thirsty heart.
In this parched and furrowed estate,
how long will these tender leaves remain aloft?
Having travelled here from afar,
and depending on legends affirmed
without much perspective on distances
between mileposts and synapses;
one way or the other, each floorboard lain beside another is a miracle of science
and of some ancient birthright unearned.
And this is life’s keystone perched high overhead
made of chalk, under whatever rain falls, and forgotten
by those whose vision is perpetually probing for crude.
And such is the dream of cooled watermelon and shade trees,
summer girls with their bobbed hair pinned back
and long swims in the glade-
These things don’t keep, but the flavors last
as evenings in front of the fire
and firefly walks beside languid rivers,
if only in mentioning.
or remembering our progenitors
as trees beside great, furrowed fields
and in hope of champions or recovering from ruin.
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