The Smaller One

Words were whispered as I
picked the taller tree – you are
alone you know, how do you
cope with that exigency?

Too late for answers I suppose,
solo pick ‘til bins all overflow or
wait a grace of abnormality for
revelation’s due return

He’s on his own again they say –
shunned our aid in favour of a
solitude he seeks. He’s weak
because he fears our unity

believes we’ll sit in liberal dust
of anxious thought – it’s what he
thinks, to judge us reticent, equate
his choice as right and just

and when we go to help him
pick the tallest tree he’ll say
I need no less, the smaller one
beside this one redresses me
© 27 May 2009, I. D. Carswell