By Way of the Trees

(Written in the style of JL Conrad.)

One trunk, twice bifurcated
ten inches above the fleshy
tendrils tethering it to earth.

Eight bodies dutifully
swaying together in a
disjointed dance, alone.

Exotic Ginko leaves
lilting away from the sky,
decorating an octagon
of grassless ground.

Four friends, the licking
sun sticking strands
of hair to necks bent in
reverence: a fish burial.

A branch forced to defy
instinct, bowed downwards
by brown rope and black tire.

Two children, legs pumping
valiantly, unaware that their
toes cannot tickle the clouds.

Aromatic boughs of needles that
never lose pigment, silhouetted
against the indigopink knock
of daylight’s familiar fist.

Alone sipping chamomile-
steeped water, letting my lips
linger on too-hot ceramic,
I gratefully answer her call.


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