The Sky and I
A tree can waver.
Releasing leaves, gently and silently.
Trees, they are graceful.
I am not graceful.
I am mysterious.
I am unfocused and confused and hypnotized.
Trees are different…
And that means nothing to me.
A poem that goes nowhere.
The way the sky goes nowhere.
The sky and I, we rhyme!
And that’s poetry.
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