You might think that at that post-extermination point, the hornet would be satisfied. Might own up to its consequences. You know – like take some accountability for its murderous slaughter.
♪ Are you, are you - swinging in the tree? 🎵
But the American white oak is a deciduous tree. It sheds its conscience at the gates of each violent season,
its myriad acorns self-germinating before beginning the cycle anew. Only afterwards, when the death toll reaches a predetermined too much, when it’s too late for the children who ate shrapnel sandwiches and pop corn bullets – instead of flours , do our leaders suggest that “ those children look very hungry .”
♪ Are you, are you - swinging in the tree? 🎵
There's a Something swinging from an elderly-looking white oak tree, its roots run deep, but the Something doesn't think about the tree's past. The Something imagines a future where the swing gives them wings, launching them away from the seat ♪ defying gravity - they’ll never bring us down 🎵 up, up and away into the stratified cerulean layers far above.
♪ Are you, are you - swinging in the tree? 🎵
Admittedly, the Something swinging on the swing looks like a child. Parts disassembled and then hastily reassembled, thumbs, toes, eyesockets, cartilage, all haphazardly sewn together - perhaps a derivative of Coraline's alternate universe. Pixelated, ghostly, too faint to be sure of its true state of matter. Frail. If I reach out with my hand, I worry contact alone might disintegrate it back to dust.
Can you see the child? Is it even a child still?
♪ Are you, are you - swinging in the tree? 🎵
HVWP COMMONPLACE 9
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