From the Attic

“And when the roots are watered, 

I’ll fly my human soul  

into the finest blooming tree 

and live in it till summer lasts. 

And with winter, 

I’ll find the narrowest cave 

and hibernate like bears. 

And if the seasons change, 

I’ll disguise into winds. 

Oh, the things I’ll do  

to escape this life and still live, 

to still live in traded tragedies.”