…

we became a tree
with skin as hard as bark
& squirrels upstairs

the woodpeckers peck
the winter storms test us all
with bellowing bursts

of blow yer own horn
but we’re the giants’ hatstands
– owls were here last night –

in the woodland’s bowels
in the here of fade away
waiting for that spring

to reboot like feet
even though we now have roots
in am-dram workshops

…