ShadowsCool
06-20-2011, 06:49 AM
As sticks they came from the wood
In the dawn of morning
To greet the happy sun
The promised meeting.
They grew as figures, solitary
Each a branch of their own conception
Reaching skyward in the spring
Pruning back in the fall.
And so what a surprise
That the pruning began this early spring
With the junipers asleep in their buds
And wetness still thick in the fields.
They came out of the woods
Many young men, some fifty at a time
As smoke billowed in the air
As sticks they fell everywhere.
In the dawn of morning
To greet the happy sun
The promised meeting.
They grew as figures, solitary
Each a branch of their own conception
Reaching skyward in the spring
Pruning back in the fall.
And so what a surprise
That the pruning began this early spring
With the junipers asleep in their buds
And wetness still thick in the fields.
They came out of the woods
Many young men, some fifty at a time
As smoke billowed in the air
As sticks they fell everywhere.