Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Arbitrareum

A batch of birches hover in a row,
Or not.
Why not? They do,
Quite elegantly, in fact.
They each have at least five hundred
Years of ballet
And the one farthest down
Just started gymnastics.
He loves the high beam.
There’s something almost erotic in being
So perfectly, symbolically perpendicular.
It’s like being rerooted
And slipping your mossy tendrils
Inside the Earth so snuggly
That you wonder
If it was made just for you.
Man, does that take him back.
The boss says that he’s too big
For the ground now.
The tree doesn’t feel too big
But he doesn’t want to make a fuss.
He’s sure they need the room
For some new saplings.
A group of teens comes up
To the tree and all blow at the same time.
The tree tips a little.
They come about once a week.
They’re sure going to prove something
One of these days

No comments: