He was born straining towards the east.
Crooked on one side, he was surrounded
By a wall of deep green hedges
Full of sparrows singing in the morning.
He was fond of the sound of their singing.
The lollygag and laughter that pursued him
Never drew him into realms of self-denial.
He lived at the end of a plain dirt path
Hugging the fence which bordered a field,
Skirting the edge of a forest.
No knowledge was better than some;
He wondered what his life was for.
Still, he would not trade his treasures
For a trip to Avocado Hill.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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