Skin Song

 

A gust rattles the leafless branches 

and buzzes each curl of bark

drawing you in 

 

puzzled 

by the noise

 

that now rustles and flaps

in your papery quiet

 

as discord

that won’t be ignored.

 

Maybe this frothy, girthy giant

knew its skin song would startle you

out you 

push you

to leave that safe seeming silence

the mute assent

that privilege allows

and honesty

eventually 

bares.

 

Perhaps it knew 

it takes a rough kind of courage

to answer this wind

 

for though you know well

how to keep the peace

 

truth calls to us each

from where peace

is not.