Our grove shares a common root
Above basalt, in the soot
In windy times branches shake
Rubbing twigs exfoliate
My falling limb cracks your branch
Your bark is torn, in come the ants
Your nonchalance, it humbles me
I recollect that swarm of bees
whose hive you dangled so happily
Old black bear, she knocked it down
The bees stung her, one per pound
That furry bulk in the air
That furry bulk caused me wear
Snapping through my woody arms
away from you, toward earthly charms
Living in proximity
need we do, amicability
So I trust our flexibility
for the inevitability
of broken twigs to come Full Post»
