of Note

Allan Lake

Why, when wandering alone in park or forest, 
I hesitate and place my hand on a certain tree 
is not a question worth consideration unless 
you collect Dylanesque answerless questions.

There is a ghost gum. We both respire; 
we will expire so why not marry? 
Observant birds overhear my single note
which accompanies interior drum.

Transfixed and briefly fixed, I may close 
my eyes, lean treeward. You now know 
what I think I know. This happens and 
I only wonder it didn’t begin sooner.

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