Under the Tree

Branches softly sing

Ripened enjoying the swing

And I, leaning against the greened,

Shower in fragrant wind


Hasten, deepen, harden

the requiem moans and coughs

Arrows spit, through the cavitied shield

Arsons, heathens, treasons


Clinging, clinging

to the dried uncomfortable

Till the thermal falls in red

while the blued blow softens air


The blank will be blanker

Soon, one must shelter

Safely, with others

And leave… O the leaves!





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