Ivy Crown

Released at last
From the iron grip
Of the neck-locked giant
He.
Tall as a tree
But not a tree,
In his concrete form,
No motion.

Painted with leaves
He nourishes nothing,
Emptiness filled
With solid grey.
Nothing flows
There
Nothing grows
There,
Nothing new to add.

Released
At last,
The birds are singing,
Released
And sweetly free.

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