The Tree’s Lament
The Tree’s Lament
I watched the morning dew, it shined as rays
Of light beamed down onto the glowing leaves.
Down deep below the hills this sapling lay,
and yearned for sun and sky on winter’s eve.
From naught appeared the chill, which stayed, steadfast:
The heavens darkened, wind arrived in haste.
The burning light that shined just instants past,
Was gone; the sky loves acting Janus-faced.
The flames of light, purloined straight from the tree,
Now hid behind thick clouds, the plant, left cold.
The tree now seemed to turn to me and plea:
Please stop the tale of ice before it’s told.
The sun came back and warmed the tree once more,
Which shook and prayed for heat that reached its core.
