Treed
In this tree, you see
I have no need. Indeed
I have all I need in plenty.
Clean air, cool breeze
and, sure, I’ll share the shade beneath these leaves!
Great grubs to grub
with this bird who sings.
I’ll stretch and scratch my back on bark and
bark? BARK?
Why, yes, Hark! Bark!
The sound from the ground
so horribly heavenly bound.
Is it me it’s found?
For in my soul it heavily resounds.
Suddenly
no bird who sings
nor breeze
and—oh, my leaves!
they left me for the ground.
OOoooo that hound!
Insistently Persistently consistently
He stays. Never weary. Never leaves
He stays.
Ugh that sound from the Hound on the ground!
Surely it’s not me he’s found,
for in this tree I’m bound
--I mean, a bound—
but that sound…
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