Tree
did you see the man approaching
with that look
in his eye
that look
that spoke of fire on a cold night
a new shelf in his workshop
shavings for the woman's
flower beds?
Did you know it would hurt
to have the years
cut from you that way
no blood
trees don't bleed
but they weep.
I've heard them.
Might I have heard you
that day
before the thud
the sound
a tree makes
as it
meets its Maker?
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