May 1, 2020
You never can
Help but dance
Even when heads hang
Heavy just
below your boughs
Hardly ever reaching
Heavenward
(so worth less to Wordsworth, but whatever)
Really, never
Always reaching
South and down
Bowing to neither
Dawn nor dusk
But to every minute
Minute in-between,
O Heathen tree!
Dropping leaves
Always dropping
Rioting in the night winds
Even after father died
Drowning out the circling stars,
Raindrop obstacle!
Throwing shadows
Never bearing fruit
Anymore.
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Where you Stay 