The tree is still up in Portsmouth
Though nary a jingle in sight
The calendar’s leaning towards Easter
But still Yule in the Square’s the sight
Here’s a handwritten/scrawled poem. Because a) it’s easier than typing it out, and b) doesn’t it just look better this way?
Prioritizations passed down
From leaders, peers and self
Trying to put in order
Of most to least likely
To cause a crisis
If ignored
But then I escape
Rediscover
That childhood secret refuge
Look up — up — up
And
Who am I to ignore
This tree’s priority
Of being looked at
Of being appreciated
For its gnarled bark
Its high, reaching limbs
Stretching — stretching
Who am I to say that
The contemplation
Of what caused
That bend — and
That knot
Is less crucial
Than anything sitting in my inbox
It would’ve been an impressive bit of foreshadowing, had I the omniscience to recognize it as such at the time, that I thought to myself as I left my house for the beach, “I might actually take an extra scenic block-circler once I near the beach, so that my phone might fully charge whilst in my vehicle, and in this way be fully prepared to spurt out tunage into mine eardrums whilst I gaze into the horizon over the shoreline at the beach…” Little did I know…
