On my daily walk
in my neighborhood,
cuddled houses,
trimmed, green lawns,
saluting soldier trees,
manicured flower beds,
my dog Butter and I stroll
past a gnarled tree,
twisted, a runt,
bony fingers sky pointed,
green moss dusted
on her wrinkled bark.
Misfit body.
A witch alive in the burbs.
Originally Published in Old Red Kimono