The poet-tree

I climb and clamber


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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