Favorite Tree
"A nice day to fly," he said as he climbed to the top of his favorite tree
He spread his arms like the wings of an eagle and jumped--but no Dadelus he
No Icarus either--for he lived to tell his tale to all that he met
How does it end? Nobody knows--he's not finished telling it yet
"Wings are for women," he said.
"Men should stay home and in bed
Under their covers--safe from discovery
Feeding their stomachs and heads."
"A nice place to visit but no place to live," she said, looking over the town
But then she began to notice the absence of people and dogs, light and sound
A vacuous void--a place to avoid--like everywhere else that she'd been
The face staring back from her twisted reflection--the sole sign of life that she'd seen
"Movement's for men," she said
"Women should sit still instead.
Safe in their homes--not outside and roaming
where paths of lost wanderers led."
"Tell us we matter," they demanded of one who had given them so much already
Forgetting the fact that it was he alone who had worked to keep their course steady
Turning his back on ingrates and fools, he disappeared into the horizon
Nobody noticed until the next day--by then it was hardly surprising
"Faith is for fools," they cried
"The teller of good stories lied
Never again to trust women or men--
Never againto take sides."