Travels
I grew up a nomad, wondering as I went,
With backpack over shoulder and shoes well spent.
I've seen Mesopotamian graveyards where dust fell from the Ishango Bone,
And trudged Mediterranean shores where Nap found the Rosetta Stone.

There's nothing like old Stonehenge at the midwinter heirophany,
Or late noons at Giza, shadows long like Modiglianis.
The snowflakes carved in Moscow are each a precious little fractal.
Who's tasted cacao where Aztecs toasted their own Quetzocoatl?

I love my trees. Before you start calling me some sort of tree-hugger (I will resent that greatly), let me explain. My trees are a little like people. I have an old weeping willow in the north yard that always pretends it’s crying because it’s sad, but they’re only fake tears and if you’re careful, you can get it to giggle at its own foolishness.