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“Leaning. . .Leaning”

fire

in any country yard

under any melamine sky

where grass grows in patches

and rhubarb grows and stands watch

 

leaning there against a maple

an old wooden ladder

two wood-be branches

stretching

 

into the bough

of the standing

the leaning one finds rest

exhausted from the reaching

 

what the last rung knows

is what the first rung denies

what the farthest-reaching branch discovers

is told to the roots in rings

 

the ladder and the maple

leaning and accepting

wood against wood

waiting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~ by paulwhankins on January 12, 2014 .



One Response to ““Leaning. . .Leaning””

  1.   Lee Ann Says:

    I like the echo of sound and tihe feel of give and take I get from this poem…leaning, longing, reaching, giving…”told to the roots in rings.” There’s mystery there at the heart.

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