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“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









~ 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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