in an Indiana woods

there is a space in the woods on a hillside

where I would go to hide up under the roots of a tree

the ground had fallen away

and roots hung down as thick snakes

I would hide among the roots for hours

wait for my stuttering and tics to stop

and I could speak again and not be laughed at

sixty years on, I wonder if the tree still stands

waiting for me to return

or if it fell, what lives in its remains

5-3-24