Sycamore
Days
I've
spent a whole lifetime
in
the branches of trees
looking
down on the world
with
the memory of an elephant.
Trees
take the long view
change
is all about water
the
seasons are a haircut
future
– a long adolescence.
My
mother was young, my dad old.
Planes
flew over every 3 minutes.
The
farms were shrinking
and
the strip malls growing.
A
boy looks like a speck
hidden
by the camo-skin
of
a fifty foot sycamore
in
the green, green youth of spring.
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