Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Tree's Knees

I read somewhere
that in order to grow
to my birthright height
I must plant myself
in a grove of tall trees.
I chose a lush patch
of Giant Sequoias. I
might have made
a mistake - aimed too
high and mighty.

The warning said
never plant myself
in short bushes
or patches of small
trees because
I might
outgrow them
and become a target for
the elements which
will cripple me
and keep me
shriveled
and bent.
Staying short
makes me safe
but doesn't provide
sufficient blackmail
 to eradicate my
claustraphobic
bonzai phobias.
Adapting to survive
unrelenting erosion and
constant battering
by staying small
stifled my future grim --
 so I didn't go there. 

But this lush patch
of Giant Sequoias
 I chose keeps me
 under a shade canopy.
No matter how hard
I stretch to reach the sun
and catch a breath
of the clean air
they inhale
while they talk
and see the vistas
they see  -
I remain nose to nose --
with their knees.

They don't see me

down
            here.