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Look at that!

 

Right there in the middle of the field,
A silver tree.
That tree all by itself
Wants me to be its eyes,
To tell it what’s coming.

Or who. . .
I used to be able to see like that.

Sycamore –
Two trees in one –
You can’t decide what bark to wear!

. . .Like me.
Sometimes I think I have a light behind me
And I turn to see
If the moon is out.

Too bad I can’t stop moving. . .
I would go to that tree
But I can’t stop driving,

sycamore

I mean thinking.
Anyway, I can’t. . .
Have already moved on.

And that tree
Thinks that I can do whatever I want. . .
Stop,
Walk into the field,
Take as long as it takes,
Climb,
Rest on a branch like
A jewel-eyed cat.

 

GARY LINDORFF, TCBH!'s resident poet, is an artist, musician, poet and counselor / dream-worker who practices shamanic techniques, and who lives in rural Vermont with his wife Shirley and two dogs. He can be reached at maleotter@gmail.com



story | by Dr. Radut