When the wind blows does it blow
the tops of trees, or do the treetops push the air to flow?
The chicken and the egg, I say, no one can know.
When Eve beheld illicit fruit
did she take a blameless bite and let its juice drip down her chin?
She yet knew naught of good and ill
so had no qualm to eat her fill:
In purest form our Eve partook; it wasn’t sin.
But, ah, she ate the seed within! And bore a different kind of tree,
as mothers bear perpetually.
Did she sin in eating fruit, or was it only in the root?
On a winter walk I see
a winter tree, devoid of all adorning leaves.
Loveliest tree I’ve ever seen, are you dead or are you green?
When the wind blows does it blow
the tops of trees, or do the treetops push the air to flow?
The chicken and the egg, I say, no one can know.
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The Back of My Mind (Poetry)
PoésieI like to write fiction, but I love to write poetry. Here is a collection of some of my favorite pieces.
