Thursday, January 29, 2009

A Letter to My Distant Cousin

Coming to the grove I find every tree
hacked to a height, and it matters not:
tamarind or pear, tropical or temperate;
all are waist high to you, my distant cousin.

You are a man of mechanics, standards,
and comprehend, do you? the intricacies
of screwing together a standard design,
yet have nothing your own, or kill it in pruning.

I should have seen in your ragged garden,
untrimmed, and sick from the overgrowth
that where you restrain the hand, Gevurah,
you bury a tree of nothing; shears are your nourishment.

Time to heal, and merciful cuts,
not this sap-soaked hacking, cousin;
could we enjoy this fruit together?
Ah, but you have no art, my distant cousin.

3 comments:

  1. ...sounds like me when I'm let loose in the garden!!!! ...
    I love the flow of your writing...the images are very well written.
    Thanks so much for stopping by my blog :)
    Have a great day...

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  2. This cousin is getting more distant...
    Lonh Live The Trees!

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  3. Sarah-Paige - happily, not everything we do generalizes to the broader text of our actions. It just happened to be so in my cousin's case. I will be back to your blog; it was my pleasure stopping by; and thank you I did have a great day.

    Oh but those poor trees, Pink Cowboy, I will have to plant new ones. See the picture if you doubt the totality of their destruction.

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