The Tree

Its roots are hands to scoop up rainits leaves are throats that drink the sunthese disappear when warmth is donethe whole tree is the whole tree's brain

and every scar it has will healno matter where the wound may bebut anywhere upon the treetoo great a scar will slowly kill

without lungs it breathes but has no breathwithout a heart its thin blood flowswith no eyes it light and darkness knowsand it knows too of coming death

for feeling in its wounded cellswill cause a crippled tree to flingmore blossoms to the winds of springthan one whom youthful sap impels