In the Review Mirror


There stood a tree, balding
Shaken, dry but bold-
A bitter empty existence,
In the clearing by my road.

What worth is it? I asked
This unevolved continual-
Why live with these rocks and that Sun
With them foreign and those cruel?

But silent, he stood tall.
Old, barren but alive.
And lived in his pride and his ego,
Long, long after I died..