Trees
you've shaken your great heads
in consternation
all these thousands of years
at the Great Destroyer
the worm
that tunnels through
the soil at your feet
through men's minds
devouring
consuming
leaving behind
a vast blank black space
where goodness
cannot root
cannot thrive
for such things
need the wetness of tears
the warmth of embraces
tease of wind
and the glimmer of stars
to sprout
to grow
to fill the world
with color
to trim the void
making of it the small
insubstantial
immaterial thing
it deserves to be
you've told us
time and again
you've used the wind
to keen in the night
you've quaked and trembled
offered yourselves as
sacrifice as restitution
atonement for wrongs
you yourselves
were never guilty of
could never be
held accountable for
and all you ask
all you ever ask
is one small thing
that we not wonder
if you shed your leaves
sooner
this year
