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| Fallen Tree |
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| Fallen Tree |
| Am I a fallen tree, A specter laid on Briny banks, rootless, twisted? Are leafless Limbs forever barren, Shadeless, fruitless; Bark worn and rotted, Wormy, soiled? Will Roots torn out the ground Wave helplessly forever At the sky? Is there No little twig still Green, in contact with The nurturing earth, |
| And sprouted, will it Rise above the rotting Husk and shade the Grave and greet the Sky? Will o’ershadowing Giant trunks give way Some day to stretching, Growing, pushing life, Make place in forest Kingdom for another Of its kind? And if A little twig grown Tall bowed gently to The patriarchs around, And lifted leafy limbs To beckon smaller Youngsters up, would |