Lunge

 

 

     I am shopping – undertaking the proverbial daily,

it is busy and this beautiful Sun is baring more than seen

   in recent years and, I am liking that as

     I need the eye candy.

 

     It is a lazy day and not an ounce

of effort is needed in enjoying the warmth,

   then,

     a particular malady has me at odds with myself.

 

     More and more I now see it as if,

signposted, walking with wood may now explain

the loss of tree.

 

     There is a stick,

and another, another and another,

   now I am noticing a multitude of disabilities,

     struggling to,

         walk!

 

     There are so many, am I now

to understand our trees have up rooted

to walk among ‘we’ selfish and are carrying,

   limping upon the stick they use

     for stability by ways of identification?

 

     Another goes by, accompanied by

the familiar sound of ‘tap’ on concrete,

   it is a strange place to boast a tree,

     trees we use to wipe our bottoms,

   trees we take that are our lungs of planet.

 

2.

 

     I am now frowning as sweat gathers

upon my brow but before I wipe,

yet another tree goes by, tap………..tap………...tap………..tap,

   and then, is the victim sweating for the pain

     like I with open mind in turmoil never knowing

        how - out of a maize of……….

 

   ……….birds, plant trees,

   birds, sit upon those sticks,

     birds make nest and have families

  within those sticks we are crutching on,

                how sacrificed our most sentient of form upon these worlds,

       yet, how many shoe makers going out of business for

   reduction of production of ‘pairs’ where only now,

                a notion of singularity has me in morning for our ‘better’ animal kingdom.

 

 

Michael J Waite 17th June 2023.