Trees that sway, find a way
to lean left, and then bereft
warmer winters, seldom linger-
then May arrives and mirth dies
now wait for morrow, in anticipation of sorrow
what, where and why? a rebellious wind is nigh
steel your heart, for time’s impertinent art
the rogue tree must sway again or the stars submit to their pain
sway with adumbrated ease, savour the days you can seize.
