almost grown

(for and after Chuck Berry)

The tunes the bellringers have rung

The chansons the gypsies have sung

The artist’s fateful hue & cry

The breath of a man in an iron lung

The sight of the man in the iron mask

The whispering of crickets that wonder why

The red fog rising over piles of dung

The stars in the eyes of Mao T’Se Tung

The sound of a hound let out on the sly

Through the picture window of the church

A lone & yearning silver birch

Survivor of a decimated forest

left

    to wither...