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Trees in the Yard

Trees in the Yard

Quick-tempered tribe, this is your season,
You who take scant notice of a breeze in winter
And will forbear a major snowstorm,
Now take offense at any little puff of wind,
And get-to-whispering and gossipmongering.

What calumnies are you exchanging at night?
You who are usually so discreet and wise.
How am I to comprehend these sudden outbursts,
These long lists of concocted grievances
You dwell on and take so much to heart?

To us, who are already awake and distressed
Regarding some other matter, you appear to
Show maternal understanding one moment, and scorn
The next, until driven out of our wits
We sit up in bed and turn on the TV.


Charles Simic

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