Me oh my!
Mercy me!
Something's descended from the tall pine tree;
It grew through my childhood;
It grew through my roof;
Straight up from the floor
A seed made for sorrow
All the life it could borrow
To make itself huger
Than huger
Than huge

Yet
What's this?
What gives?
It does? Does it give?
It has swayed for nine decades
(Nine and three quarters to be specific)
And now comes opportunity
Mystère Magnifique!
A future, a glimmer
Of reward and desire
Polished leaves, rough-edged shade
Up and up, up much higher

It is homely
Somewhat dusty
It bites and it barks
It is all of my past
It is parts of my parts
With its paints in my skin and its dust in my nose
There is no certain knowledge of just where it goes

Still
The brush keeps rewinding
Still the morning is lighter
Above me
Beneath me
That reward my desire
Pure and crisp and untouched by guilt
Untouched by those mornings all filthy in quilts
Different
And new

Between, through and through
I am higher
Mainly tired
Very saddened
Too inspired

For
I have been reaching
Past branches of branches
To make that glimmer of a concept
More than a concept
To make it constant
A stream, a beam
A dawn

But I yawn
Take myself to the woodwork
A frame on my back without borders
Or shame

Without quilts
Without comfort
Me and a tree
In a rain kissing sea
Cold
Sheltered

I stare down at the rooftops
And watch as my boot drops