And sickly steam of geysers on the air.
TREE FEELINGS.
I wonder if they like it—being trees?
I suppose they do....
It must feel good to have the ground so flat,
And feel yourself stand right straight up like that—
So stiff in the middle—and then branch at ease,
Big boughs that arch, small ones that bend and blow,
And all those fringy leaves that flutter so.
You’d think they’d break off at the lower end