Nivel de Realidade

by T.P. Wilkinson / December 15th, 2019

See, no orange
at the treetop hangs
lemons, plums
all fruits the same
it’s the trunk
that holds
our conscious frame.
Clever limbs
leave the skin
caressed by sun
bathed in mist
omitting storms
by wind kissed
awakened not
in those heights
where timbers grow
but from the depth of slumber
touched by the roots below.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, December 15th, 2019 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.