letters

Thought to send you a letter.

That seemed contrived

and it better fit to tell you here

I saw the trees

sometimes straight sometimes knotted

sticks and branches

perfectly spaced to catch light

not a leaf to block

raindrops clinging

silver glistening

on mottled greys and browns.

Caged trees in city lines

they made me cry for fields

and mixed god thrown types

that catch imaginations’

wanting, take me

away from this lock box

of concrete and cars,

this people prison,

give me a hill 

where waters ripple

where grasses wet my feet 

as forgiveness

runs to a cove
and a small boat at anchor.

Would you meet me there

        or

would you rather a letter?