The poet-tree
I climb and clamber
Searching,
I fall, but I go back
Climb again,
Grasping at the branches of the poet-tree.
I breathe in the scent among the leaves
Sometimes it’s like pine, no, wait, it’s blue-gum
Breathing in,
I sneeze, but I inhale the scents
Taking in the aroma of the poet-tree.
What fruit is this?
Tastes like a mango, tastes like an orange
Bitter like a grapefruit, tangy like a lemon,
I grimace-just a bit- and I keep eating
Savouring the fruit of the poet-tree.
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