Don't ask me any more about my friend
by John Pilkey
Who never was because she was a girl;
She might as well have been a rustling squirrel
In hidden paths that never condescend
To show us more than how the branches end
In more profusions of the leafy whirl
Of chasings up and down in their referral
Of purposes to nothing more than trend.
A solid trunk I lean against and muse
About a hunter's expertise to lose
What gun can never gain by dropping prey.
The kingdom will arrive some other day
But not while violence adopts a tree.
The shadow tail will never follow me.