This Tree
Bowing with grace
Thriving only for me
For only I can see it;
What greed.

Even as the sun rises
The butter melts,
The water dries,
But I will never feel its shade
No, I wouldn’t want to
Take that away.

This Tree is passionate
Its velvety leaves are singing
And furling and curling;
It’s a symphony of foliage
That only I can hear.

Sometimes I wish to
Cut this beautiful Tree down,
Reducing it to splinters.
Not that anyone would know
How I murdered my Tree.

A golden bee sucks the life
Out of a flower,
Squeezing its juice like the
Cold touch of fingers may extinguish a flame.

My Tree is
A summer fantasy, a spring wonder, a winter trooper, a fall fighter.
A single raindrop pelts the ground,
A single cloud shreds its creamy soul into a million pieces.
With a blink, my Tree is gone.
You shouldn’t have given me
That Ax.
It’s lying over there,
Untouched, unscratched, untarnished,
Ultimately, utterly, unused in all.