Two Lenses
Two Lenses
As I straddle my oak here and now
down below me they’re having a cow
my mother turns white
my father ignites
I survey every yard and say: ”WOW!”
Lament for my oak and much better days
The weather betrays the bend and the sway
Climb up with my saw
(it sticks in my craw)
To cut memories and moments away.
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