Note to Trees
Trees, it's almost Thanksgiving
and as promised you're coming
naked--along with all your relatives
hauling acorns beechnuts buckeye
nuts moldy maple wings and such.
Leave them at the door.
Don't start in on gifts to the poor
squirrels and other fluffy rats, and don't ever
lapse into that annual rant after
several glasses of wine, death is the mother
of beauty. Death is a motherfucker.
Tell witchhazel to rise from her streamside
with all her golden blooms. Hamamelis
virginiana, the place cards are set
yet once more--be on your best behavior;
don't forget who this day is for.
---signed Me
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