
My Family Tree
My family tree leans hard,
branches loose. When the
meadow is golden and
the hills ramble toward sun.
Hedonists gather at its base,
hands clasped, gazing up
into the luscious canopy,
wide-eyed with jealousy.
Sheep graze at its base
and shed themselves on the
bark, before bleating tales of
solitude. My family tree is
imperious when shaken,
with broken limbs it
jaunts in driving rain. The
axe-wielding menace is
coming again. My family
tree is humbled sometimes,
though enamoured when
a bounding youth climbs
and climbs.
#365DaysOfPoetry