POETRY: Kitties, Crickets and Crooked Branches

Kitty in window
Oversees lovers at play
Blissfully unfree

·

September cricket
Sings a dusky requiem-
Rests as cars roar by

That crooked tree must be balancing out the rest of the earth.
For she is bent in a gnarly shape, superficially ugly, with patches of green leaves ready to die.  Bending shoots of dead branches testify to the sickness within.

She is innocent-no murder or rape on her record; no mileage on her limbs from seeking out the next iniquity; just signs of death inextricably mixed with signs of life.

As roots penetrate soil, injustice, greed, poison and sorrow seep into her veins.

For now, as the sun washes you with golden, truthful light, let me apologize for your premature death and thank you for your wise, resilient leaves.

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