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...