I am shopping – undertaking the proverbial daily,
it is busy and this beautiful Sun is baring more than seen
in recent years and, I am liking that as
I need the eye candy.
It is a lazy day and not an ounce
of effort is needed in enjoying the warmth,
a particular malady has me at odds with myself.
More and more I now see it as if,
signposted, walking with wood may now explain
the loss of tree.
There is a stick,
and another, another and another,
now I am noticing a multitude of disabilities,
There are so many, am I now
to understand our trees have up rooted
to walk among ‘we’ selfish and are carrying,
limping upon the stick they use
for stability by ways of identification?
Another goes by, accompanied by
the familiar sound of ‘tap’ on concrete,
it is a strange place to boast a tree,
trees we use to wipe our bottoms,
trees we take that are our lungs of planet.
I am now frowning as sweat gathers
upon my brow but before I wipe,
yet another tree goes by, tap………..tap…………tap………..tap,
and then, is the victim sweating for the pain
like I with open mind in turmoil never knowing
how – out of a maize of……….
……….birds, plant trees,
birds, sit upon those sticks,
birds make nest and have families
within those sticks we are crutching on,
how sacrificed our most sentient of form upon these worlds,
yet, how many shoe makers going out of business for
reduction of production of ‘pairs’ where only now,
a notion of singularity has me in morning for our ‘better’ animal kingdom.
Michael J Waite 17th June 2023.