Sonnet [8]

Surrounded by those in a hurry to
work reach, converse, or sit, eyes dull, ice creamed.
A Unicentro people stroll, aloo
of body, soft-fleshed creatures talk, dreams memed.
Observèd thus a tree that stood, a tow-
er home for crits and phylls, young twigs and wings.
The elder’s roots dig tales in search of how
life’s quiet broke, the forest’s wood as things
is handled, bought and sold. From family far,
discouraged fools snack hate, worms hooked, dead bait
below, her regal crown sighs deep, takes tar,
air pure returns, forever mercy. Wait!
In your despair, my queen, encounter I
razón de ser. I hope soon we beasts die.

 

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