Swinging Sunset Bag Trees

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 © Poem written by Mrs. Oliverio ©

Image source: Jay Pegg

Finger knitting
circles of lady trees.
plaiting their branches
for the soon to arrive,
softly pastel buds.

They watch the young
and mature male trees,
muscled from boxing
the swinging plastic bags,
yellow but mostly whitish.

Songs stick in your head.
Birds perhaps formed songs
in trees, to remember,
make traffic signals.
Is this why we chant?

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