UP IN A TREE ON A WINDY DAY
Up in the middle of a back-and-forth tree,
the wind rocks the tree,
and the wind rocks me.
The smiley-face sun is egg-yolk bright,
and a penny-golden butterfly
ziggy-zags by.
The clothesline flaps a pear-yellow sheet,
and meadowlarks tweet
from in-the-nest seats.
I'm up in a tree on a swaying, summer day,
in the primrose promise
of a fluttery, buttery day.
Anne Knowles
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