fingers of the oak quake all day
they make the wind fatherly-proud;

each tremor of the spindly leaf,
shakes too, an acorn holding fast.

gravity's hungry maw, agape, awaits;
resting alop betwixt sidewalk cracks.

life-giving ground yards away;
bounded by life-taking squirrels.

i yearn to help the ground move;
and the squirrel stomps harder.

10/26/2007

Posted on 10/26/2007
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