“A Poet Tree”

incandescent spiders
the fire flies taste like mint
caramel bark
masks the saltiness
the sap is tears & sorrow
the trunk bends to find the light
leaves breaking the canopy
just to wave at the moonlight
it is far too warm in direct sunlight

more whisky cries the roots
more water begs the earth around it
the swaying is not just the wind’s song
it is drifting over the property lines

handsome from a distance
the branches seem to wither
under closer inspection
but the thorns keep
away the squirrels
who want to parasite the seeds

so much manure at the base of the growing
the smell is often too much to bare
but aren’t the green leafs glowing
the dew of late nights forming
dripping sentences & metaphors
on the dung beneath it
but the crap creeps in if you aren’t careful

have to know where to plant
where to grow
and where is the best place to survive.


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