Poetrees

Golden poplar

Long I’ve stood upon this hill,
Long outlived the hand that placed me.
Shivering green, rooted in dirt,
My misshapen form’s grown tall.

Among my boughs a hollow hosts
A grey-furred scavenger of the night.
A youthful injury has become a nurturing home
I am a peaceful shelter from the light.

19/02/2016

380 William Street Melbourne

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