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Four Sycamores

Pink orange coral ribbons cross

a lightening blue sky behind the stark black

chaos of bare trees and I wonder why

I am not up before dawn every day why

I am not pouring these colors those shapes

into my small brain for safekeeping

day upon day upon day why

I do not lie on my back in the frosty

grass gazing up at the black sky

with all its stars and its moon why

I do not keep myself in the small room

of four sycamores gathered together

there where they reach up courageously

higher than I could ever dare climb

why I am not there now why

I was not there ten minutes ago why

ever other things seem more pressing

more important more worthy somehow

easier to lose.

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