564 - Cut down in your prime

I see just blue sky where the tree once stood.
Now empty space rules, punctuated by
A tiny cloud which has now exited
Stage left. All is bare. Only the wind’s sigh;
No more rustling pine branches reach for my
Second floor window. Oh, my dear green friend,
Where are you now? Do dead trees climb the sky,
Higher even than when alive? An end,
Or a beginning? Why then did you bend
Majestically with the wind? Where’s the good
In your existence, now you’re gone? I try
To picture a tree heaven. It offends
Intelligence. We tell ourselves we should
Win immortality. But trees don’t lie.
Fri 21 Mar 2008