They Don't Belong to Me, I Belong to Them

author's note:

A companion poem to the last one posted.


THEY DON'T BELONG TO ME, I BELONG TO THEM

All your children
climb up me
and shake my limbs
for acorns--

assuming I am
a tolerant tree house
for their whims--
their abuse...

they won't hear
my complaints
because they believe
gnarled oaks only talk
in cartoons.

Since I'm taller
I see no choice
but to shelter them--
to honor them
by protecting our garden--

playing the role
of a silent patient
nature god...

though I often wish
I could be a goblin.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps