up north to where the pine trees sleep.
It tangles its roots down in the deep.
and covers the trees in a silent sweep.
It lives by a farm with many sheep,
whose luscious wool the farmer reaps.
They don't know the world beyond the street
as they give up their coat to earn their keep.
Beyond the street a chickadee cheeps
it hops around with little leaps.
Its nest is made of many leaves
and pieces of plastic from a garbage heap.
Even the people cannot sleep
they have no home beneath their feet.
And when they ask me on the street,
I say, "I've got no change, you cannot eat."
The dreamers weep.
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