THE PINE TREE AND THE PANTING Comments

Every morning the grooves in the tree are fresh,
more bestial

It must have dug itself in during the day,
keeping itself hidden among us rolled up into a ball
against the light, paws folded across its chest

In the evening sky a pink cloud billows

We take turns at the fires

For which one of us
does it open itself stretch itself
bulge itself out
softly whimpering -
...
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