Where I grew up,
Trees did, too.
I lived in a treehouse neighborhood
Held together with Elmer’s glue.
Nobody got along
With each other
I lived in a different tree
Than my own mother.
The poor mailman climbed
Six days a week
To give us mail “texts” from neighbors
Because we’d never speak.
But one day in a dry Fall season
The ironwood tree couple climbed tree to tree;
‘Arson’ was their reason.
“We’re afraid of arson moving to another house!”
They were panicked.
Now I was manic.
This did not bode well for my abode
It seemed it had happened before!
“Well, don’t bring your arson here, too!” I yelled,
And slammed and locked the door.
The neighborhood met that night
And we threw away all our matches
Because having those now was not right.
We agreed we wouldn’t use our treehouse stoves
And disposed our candles
For we couldn’t use those.
We had become friends,
As people with the same enemy
The Ironwoods came late.
They were happy, bright.
Said they’d talked with their child;
Said he’d been polite.
“We are okay with his choice.
“What?!” the Yews asked.
“With felony?!” I voiced.
The Ironwoods were confused
Then laughed–even giggled!
“You misheard our news–
Earlier our child was amiss.
He’s engaged to a girl
who doesn’t live in a tree like this.
But he’s independent now, says
He will survive fine…
We were afraid our son would move houses!
But now we’ve changed our minds!”