When it's good
I find you reading
Under a full tree.
The shadows of its leaves
Dance around you and
A warm breeze parts your hair.
Then I walk you home.
When it's bad
The same tree is naked.
I only find you because a bitter
Wind peels wet leaves
From your cold, white thigh.
Then I struggle to untangle
The tree's roots from your hair.
Francis Santaquilani's Other Poems
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