Nov. 3, 2011

Grand Dads

by James Collins (author's profile)



Over the mountains I go
Busing through redwoods
I pass a large truck
with granddads on its back.
But something is wrong
Their leaves are not the same.
Perhaps this is a dream
where I awake
in the arms of a redwood.
Then I remembered a metal strap
supporting their imprisonment.

—James Collins


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