Pear Tree

Moon-bathed, and fragrant with Spring

in her branches, she wakes to

find no watchful sun, 

solitary.

This independence, a freedom,

far from those who would

take apart her petaled splendor,

climb her to take an unripe fruit,

or snap her twiggy fingers,

because they have the strength.

Under starry veil, she finds

comfort in the waxing light that

coats her with verdure, and hums

a melody claiming 

solidarity, 

and though she first despairs,

the illuminating wisdom

now permeates 

into her roots,

her blossoms, 

resplendent luminaries.

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What is This Dream

So vivid, but the sky is muted, again

my childhood home I do reside,

and with my sisters and my mother.

There were the lace curtains, but 

brighter than what I remembered,

pristine, and even the wooden floors

seem newly stained.

I am surprised! A guest has arrived,

beloved and still stranger.

Dissapointed, he becomes,

with my appearance

or with my hypervigilant, spacial -fondness.

Still, my sister pulls me aside, 

whispering words of encouragement,

telling me not to count out 

the stars in my favorite constellation.

The scene shifts to a future unknown,

a place of laughter and play,

and I overhear about the loose

crocodile before I see it;

my child points him out.

Dark green, and at least six feet,

the scaled beast spies my daughter,

and in a moment sized her for his

great grim appetite.

I called for the help of my mirrored psyche, 

and as if a game, he lifted her above 

and bounced her away from reptilian fate,

empty jaws left snapping.

Ecstatic from this victory, I shamelessly

celebrated, and laughed with mirthful

tones, mocking the croc from afar.

Again, forward I go into the land

of overcast skies, a different time,

but not too distant.

A girl I knew, but was not friends with,

a person I secretly envied,

tells me of a proposition, a non-traditional

relationship. And though I am outraged,

I help her.

Dark-grey stones blaze from the sky

as if the weather has allowed

the storm at last, and they singe 

bright yellow, orange, and blue

banners that hang above the shops,

leaving smoking holes where they fell through,

but I am not harmed.

I worry instead for the girl,

and we weave between the 

firey shower. She blames volcanoes,

but there are none here, I know.

We enter an exhibit, some zoo,

climb the fence into this verdant world

that seems detached from judgement.

I find the supplies, and hear her scream,

this girl. I run to where I think she is, 

find her bloodied, her leg is ripped, 

but the animal flees upon sensing me,

Jaguar and I in a cage.

We scale the fence, away to the transport,

a van of moderate size.

I find a seat and three come to sit

with me. I greet the one closest,

and he remarks that I confuse him

for someone else, and must think them

all to look alike. I study them,

and find differences in the faces,

and the small, pointed ears they each own.