Catkins

Vibrations vex the air
And this night, prepare
My young brother has met
The last few hundred years

Where the ground once stood
Sees him writhing below
For the fear of priv’lege
My brother’s a ghost

But not alone; not  alone
Watch as the crows do sow
In the breeze branches swing
Like a ‘kitten’s tail,’ I’m told

From the poplar, strung high
Do hang your heads
(Amen)
Once all my brothers are ghosts
How shall you view my skin?

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