That’s what you try,
in tandem,
transcend
the itching point.
Or sow some peace
beneath your branches
when they begin to wilt.
But who among
will be enough?
Who’s hair as black
as anything?
Remember – oiled city-braids
shone fancy
in the basement light,
the dandelion-down across
his forehead,
hens gathered
at the love-in.
did somebody say dandelion?? 8===+D
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