The Why Tree branches

At stump height

Stolidly offering a rigid hammock

to passers-by.

 

I accept its invitation

Wondering why.

Why has this tree branched so

Low below the shrubs

In the salty air?

 

It’s not important;

I decide lounging

In solidarity, its comfort

Gratefully mine in the windwashed bones

Breaking above the sandy loam.

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