an oak is an oak but unlike that oak
too many tired tropes tie my tongue into
too many dull clichés which tap their way
along an obviously beaten path
where there is no need to see where to go
because I’ve been there before and then again
as from worn habit the riderless horse
trots back into the barn’s comfort and warmth
the significant differences
are not enough to separate words
from trees any more than from the forest
sprawling about us with such urgency
can I shape the tales I tell to myself
to separate my life from my clichés
(June 25, 2016)
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