Have I settled for the shadow
Of my tree against the wall
Just now coming into leaf
In small bunches protruding
Into uniformly gray flowers
Nothing left of the tree
But the lines of its branches
When the sun sketches them
Gray on the gray block wall
Stripped down to its floating
Soul when now and then
Wind ruffles the light
And I can feel the real tree
Just there behind me
Pass through me quite
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