How the wind whispers to the weeping willows.
Nearby the lark sings her song of sweetness
And the walnuts and apricots drop onto
The leafy ground. The man sits with his muscles
Glistening in the sea’s mists. He stares upward
Toward where the emerald seas meet the blue skies.
Today I touched and tasted the bark
Of the cinnamon tree. The lioness reached out
To pat at me as I passed by, then rolled over
For a belly rub. I nearly stepped on
That little green snake curled up
Under the apple tree, the bounty
Of the mother earth. The man misses
So much. I think he needs his freedom.
I see it in his eyes. I like the sound
Of the word, full and round, freedom.
Silly little snake basking in the sun
Under that tree. Those bright red
Apples. Tonight with the cinnamon
I found, maybe I’ll make the man
An apple pie.....