Tree Michał Biela
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The tree seems dead,
winter-clad in early June.
Naked twigs miss their leaves;
like I do, I miss them too.
My fat neighbor
with a few soft cuts
made the tree quite bare.
A sorcerer!
We can prune
things we fear grow astray.
In this zest we are best
sorcerers,
murderers.
All that's left
by this urge to prune
is a naked tree
in early June.
winter-clad in early June.
Naked twigs miss their leaves;
like I do, I miss them too.
My fat neighbor
with a few soft cuts
made the tree quite bare.
A sorcerer!
We can prune
things we fear grow astray.
In this zest we are best
sorcerers,
murderers.
All that's left
by this urge to prune
is a naked tree
in early June.
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