Silver Maple

Silver Maple 6/22

Tap root
            I stand in a field and wave my arms accordingly
            I burry my feet to the ankles
            I paint my face pale yellow and try to look imposing

Tap root
            I stand on one foot and center my being
            I plant my soul in my root and think of red
            I cover my body in gauze and float in the river at dusk

Tap root
            I stand at the edge of the cliff and
            I bare into the wind and
            I close my eyes to the coming whatever