nearby a tree,

well-acquainted from each passing season flowing into the other -

through smudged glass, inside a bleak chamber

where aurora timidly enters past the all-embracing shutter

seldom seen by the sun herself, let alone a neighbor

a lack of amiability, a lack of sanity, perhaps a lick of calamity

for the ego is a famished beast, emerges viciously from the pits

of torment, quelled fleetingly until high time for a feast strikes:

it errupts and errupt it will! - so let it dwell within once more.



nearby a tree,

on the comfort of concrete across ever so slight damp meadows -

to ponder the cracks and wildflowers, the wind gently soughs

in harmony with a sonorous choir of boughs

curious cattle - a herd of cows

listening; listening to distant calls of birds -

to the cries of my withering soul and my words sealed still

for the ego is a famished beast - lurking nearby this tree