Wildness cannot be lived with
when it is tamed
then unleashed regimentally
like tulips in a suburban garden.
It is a breakfast of bread and venom
for a hunger that cannot be sated.
A moth breaking from a culture of silks
comes into life –
a menopause, a quietness,
loss continued into old age.
I break upon this reflex of youth
and see the old tree
bothered by its battery of leaves.
Comments about this poem (Danger Signals by Julian De Wette )
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