Requiem
.
3:40 am in chair
I’m at my sister’s house
(like home)
swaddled wee-hour early, in an Afghan
in a chair (me being
at an age that easily chills)
a codger reading poems of trees
sent by a friend
thoughts of climbing them unbidden come:
young
(youth well spent)
amid limbs bent toward light
I regard what can be seen from (t)here
see
….what has unfolded
….…what unfolds
……… what will unfold
….…….. my nephew was
a young man in a tree
an articulating Aspen whose leaves flicked in wind
feverishly
who could not live what he
could not see
I think of
hymn
.
Jim Culleny
6/13/20