© 2014 paulwhankins image

“Leaning. . .Leaning”

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



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









One Comment

  1. Lee Ann
    Posted January 12, 2014 at 8:40 PM | #

    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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