i used to climb the tallest tree
just to leave behind the ground
sing as loud as i could breathe
about the shapes of passing clouds
mum would haller up to the heavens:
"STOP IT !"
... "they’ll think you’re Mad!"
... whoever "they" were (?)!
i naively pondered thence ―
now, the tree is gone,
"they" chopped it
all the way down
to memories and decomposing roots
but i still see life unspool
in the silent shapes of clouds
hear the birds sing sweetly
without a single word
☁ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☼ ☁ ☁ ☁ ☁
26th April 2018
the memories reach much deeper than the roots