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Greenhouse Identity


A little green house

dangles from the rope of life

held by burnt branches

on a rooting tree

Here a rest stop for the ever roaming

Just a few birds eating from its nutty feed

is all it needs

Right now the air hangs still

the feed is empty

and the little birdhouse barely breathes

I ask you…

If the whole world is the green house

does that make me its timely visitor?

To be this quiet

is to hold the world up

in a soundless grasp

For I am not the passerby

nor the ephemeral guest

I am the rope

the dangling rope

Holding everything up ~

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