When I feel like an ermine in a hunters’ world
outwitting the obstacles left in haste for me.
When my tree bark flakes from one too many aphids sap-sucking my skin,
and haphazard, thirsty roots stretching out from my trunk recoil;
When propped up like a scarecrow, against scaffolding of my own making,
I want to cut and run.
When a handshake of thanks-giving, in an inkling, feels like a trap laid.
When tethers on a curious, traveling, lofty child are too much to witness.
When parachuting visions land like a symphony of revolution but seem a night-long flight away.
When fleshy abundance is whittled to the sharp jaw button of a skeleton,
I cry out.
When counties must behave impeccably, compete abhorrently, to win what seems essential;
When the imbalance sheet is the bottom line on every slope or slant;
When neighbors contemplate not leaving a note of apology,
…to where the waters inhale courage and the waves crash out on me.