in the tree
in the tree
no
no
no thats not right
not in the tree
the tree
the tree across the yard
it watched him
watched him
certain leaves
certain leaves in its lower
boughs turned towards him
hung distended like tongues
altered by degree
less green than the
other leaves
they wagged
wagged senselessly
as tongues of wooden things
often do
yet he paid attention they
captured his attention
he watched
and listened
and he began to realise the
tongues
the tongues were vaguely
aligned
irregularly spaced
rose in rows and grew in
the recesses hidden by
inconsequential leaves
too busy photosynthesizing
to pay the scarcest attention to
a man squatting on his haunches
across the yard from them
the tongues
paid rapt attention
confounding attention
so he remained squatting
parsing his thoughts imagining
until either he or they grew
disinterested
grew tired of the monotony
tired of waiting for the inexplicable
who were they to tell
either of them
who would they confide in
no one
nothing
yet all the same
to know between them
would be plenty
would be sufficient
he would be so lucky
if reality peeled away and shared what is beneath it with him
in the tree
in the tree
no
the tree
Saturday
afternoon, 1400ish, 27 4. 13
