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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Jeanne Allison


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When Trees Reach Tall Into the Sky

As I move closer down the path, I can see
the leaves stretched long from a triad of branches
as if holding a platter the way a waiter
does but without the clatter and where,
if you look closely, this hand holds all belief
between the sky and earth, and with a hint
of longing amongst the forest chatter
and butterflies' orangish yellow swishing,
with my purpose forgotten, I wish only to perceive

the boldness of the claim, desire arising
from the ground itself. I halt a spell to feel the dance
of birds and monarchs in wild dependent chance
and know we struggle strong in our intrusion
and, muddled by complacency, the stillness.