While the wind moves maples, maples move my mind…
Five-lobed
floppy leaves amassed
into giant, prehistoric,
shade-feeding
patio umbrella stands;
worn, wind-loved,
security blankets
when wet amid
storm-sobbing,
trunk-sucking
thickets;
camouflaged
chlorophyll tattoos
tapping through
dendritic veins;
crimson,
cell wall
castaways,
signal flares set ablaze,
canopies crackling
skyward and underfoot
as Fall speaks of
sunlight’s decay;
now naked,
its striated torso
tosses to and fro,
contorted with
birthmark burl bark,
though ever
strong and sure,
Nature preserves
a perfect set
of climbing
furniture.
The ancient eavesdropper 
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