Anthropomorphism

A secret garden conceals a

ménage à trois. Marbled and

patched limbs unite with the 

next, with no empty ether. 

A tourniquet vine binds 

and traces the exquisite gathering. 

What impetus of Nature compelled the

three bodies to convene at this

critical juncture? What concatenation

lead to this sub rosa convention?

Each supports the other,

the fronds topple otherwise.

With a wisp of wind, they move.

Undulate. The lower one breathes,

the upper exhales.  The middle,

ephemeral, flighty.  Each goes on

to support and nourish their own

verdant shade. But yet, still, return to

the comfort of contact. Was this

union divined in the wet swell of the root?

Separately? By chance, they met, mid-air?

Mid-growth? When Fortune

evokes Nature, nothing less than the

metaphysical on an astral plane. 

No, these three, spiraled

branches were determined.

NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY