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Sapling
The baby tree quivers in the wind
Waiting for the gardener
To come and save its scrawny cries
As I keep my head to the air
To see the airplane arrive
With my love so safe inside
Oh, airplane of every quivered arrow
Waiting to be thrusted out
To hit that bullseye like a bull hits the fence
Airplane, quivering in the wind
Like a baby sapling
Like a stallion on the migrate
On the march
Airplane of every soul that travels
The air that floats so nosey around the earth
Wake me up and draw me to the page
With a child hand
Crayon
Scribble
Drool
Saplin in the quivered wind
In the quivered arrow
Nervous of their coming journey
