Miss Hunter's Tree

branches and leaves catch ultra violet rays you can almost taste the cool summer shade little hands and feet are there most of the day marbles, jacks, and double-Dutch are played suburbia served from the tray of life beneath Miss Hunter’s tree on the highest branch between the leaves a fortress of twigs house chicks who plead to their mother for the board they so need to grow, survive, and one day leave the nest a budding ethologist adjusts their shutter speed beneath Miss Hunter’s tree young lovers savor this tender site anticipation declares their hearts were right they begin to coddle through the din of night carved initials on the trunk reveals their plight they share a kiss and a bit of moonlight bloom beneath Miss Hunter’s tree