I Sit in the Trees

Displaced by idiots
And torn like a muscle,
I sit in the trees,

The ravens retire to walking,
Aggressively pecking,
Objectives diseased,

Swallows fly low,
Swift gulps of swiped flight
And the foxes whine in unison.

I was never one to pillage,
Never the leader of the pack
Or the donkey carrying fools,

And up here
Crying through my fingernails
And grasping onto the sky,

I rise once more,
Branch by branch,
Snapping bark clearing the squirrels,

A child’s dismissal of horror,
Bright eyed and blushed with hope.


3 Responses to “I Sit in the Trees”

  1. Wonderful! Thank you for sharing…

  2. hope is always unkillable, vivid imagery, love the picture of snapping squirrels.

    welcome to Jingle Poetry.


  3. oooo! You are VERY vivid. Images torn out of space, very clear. Nice.

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