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These Trees

Even the trees here whisper,

they point their twig like fingers at the people below and cackle in the wind.

They reach out their crooked branches,

we grab on to this extended gesture.

but branches break and we come crashing down

hitting backs hard on the ground.

I would like to rest in a hammock, hang it from a tree in the yard but the branches shake and I shy away.

We would like to put up a swing for sister,

the trees know

they scratch the windows in the dark night and listen in to our private chatter

They grow up the walls of our house and spread our words to fellow flora

I sit sipping coffee and watch the trees toss gossip in the wind

I watch trees knock down a stranger because they do not fit the town’s mold

We run about under these trees

and try to find shelter where we can just be

but they take our words

and we become silent in our motion

hush and chatter

branches twigs and limbs in the wind

pray for the leaves to come,

fresh and green,

muffling  the ears of These Trees

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