Follow In The Swings Of A Poplar Tree Poem by Mark Heathcote

I submerged in a cloud of tobacco,
It was an overwhelming pleasure
To breathe in its transient heady flavour
Experience its mystic treasure.

Now, I don't feel so much under
The weather, as I danced from
My own shadow like a newborn tiger
Watching the morning vapours rise.

The grass was green and fresh
The tiger in me was now a lamb.
It struggled to be serious at its best
It just wanted to follow-

Follow in the swings of a poplar tree.

I submerged in a cloud of tobacco,
And then laughter began to holler
Like a hyena …this feeling is only,
Natural, how did you ever.

Forget to fasten-up your blue-collar
Don't forget these evenings' emanations
They're only your buried supplicated
Unheard repressed vibrations.

Look the grass is green and fresh
And that tiger in you is now a lamb.
It struggled to be serious at its best
It just wanted to follow-

Follow in the swings of a poplar tree.
Oh so high oh so free.