Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Friday, June 10, 2022

Sonnet #356

I will try my best to be a tree

I found my ground and dwell there

Let fires come to burn my branches bare

Let drought drive roots deep to seek

Let waves of worms to gnaw my bark

Let winds blow strong to bend me down

And every fell creature tumble around

I will hold this place, and touch the dark

With my high branches, and when sun

Comes, I will sing the quiet song of trees

I will spread my roots to touch the ones

Who share this place with me, quietly,

A brotherhood of peace and quiet, a patience

That can only come from practicing patience

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