The Treehouse
To every man
His treehouse,
A green splice in the humping years,
Spartan with narrow cot
And prickly door.
To every man
His twilight flash
Of luminous recall
of tiptoe years
in leaf-stung flight;
of days of squirm and bite
that waved antennas through the grass;
of nights
when every moving thing
was girlshaped,
expectantly turning.
To every man
His house below
And his house above—
With perilous stairs
Between.
James A. Emanuel
Publicado em 25 de Julho de 2006