25 Nov, 2020
The Uneasiness of Trees
Around me the leaves drip with oppressive, intermittent, unanswered questions. For a moment cool air sweeps aside the heavy, green curtain of impending summer. In the distance inaudible chainsaws obscure this aesthetic perfection. Birds attempt to defy the gloom. They do not convince the dim, white sky. The curtain drops again. Silence returns. Drip. What is the next step? Drop. It’s hot. Will it rain? Shhhh. Is the answer blowing in the wind? Drip. Which way to go? Tweet. How can we end this? Tweet tweet. Why can’t you hear me? Drop. When does it ever end?
