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.

Poetry.net

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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.

    A++

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

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