careful
to stay out of the way,
the more i could pretend to be part
of the wall the more that became
an option for me

through the million little
spaces for my fingers
i places the eyes of my mind.

as a tree in my younger days
i danced around tending to things.
a fluff of the pillows here,
a shake of the drapes there.

whole generations feeding it
and no wonder about what will happen to it
after. but to ask if it can feel the earth
is ridiculous. it feels the hot white push from the sky,
and it pulls from underneath,
breaths out steam in the morning air.

every note played
in the morning garden,
a half a snippet of lively air
on the time scale of a tree