Beyond All This

One tree rises in the center of the field
with a man up on a branch, swinging his feet

back and forth, toward heaven, toward earth,
as undecided as the rest of us.

Lost among lunches, babysitters, work,
he tries to find a place where he doesn't

have to do something, be somewhere, listen to someone.
He wants to sit down where the wind sits

to rest her weary voice, where the days hang out
telling old stories, where the nights go to drink beer

and tap their feet to live music.
He wants a place of his own where he can

set his head on straight once and for all
and walk with a strange faith, if nothing else,

in the human desire to add up
to something beyond what is human.

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