Monday Poem

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