noontime woodscape
its untended topiary leaning, oblique at rest
whose leaves perpetually about to fall
never do

beneath whose languid limbs I sit and consume
to consume is to live
to live is to go on
further in

whose trunk has braced
a forever’s worth of noontimes
it does not complain
it cannot speak

so I speak for it
its siblings lean in to
listen or to catch
the water

when I leave, I leave in this or that direction
I will be here again tomorrow
or next month
or next year

to sing the same song
as always

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