Me and Willow

Content, blissful,
against her roughness
I lean, and whistle,
wistful… I repent.

This cathedral is calling.

It echoes the whippoorwill,
the rutting buck, the shrill
call of the red-feathered hawk,
talons sink and a meal is caught

…eyes askance, tribute is brought
to the earth in red drops.

There is balance here
and I feel so foreign.

What role can a man play
in the wildness, unfolding?

Today, “Destroyer.”

The animals know their place
as they scurry to and fro,
but for a million years,
man has not known
his own.

Me and Willow,
resting by the lake,
I caress her roots
and count the minnows,
and I do what humans do,
and decompose
for Willow’s

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2023.

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