A Dendron of the Eschaton
Let
me sprout again; my leaves will be rife
Every
leaf that I fly is a banner of life
They’ll
shoot out on fingers that point up at God
Every
spring I’ll unfurl, waiting
My
greens will sing songs and my roots will tap taps
They
will dance through the earth while humans take naps
While
their young view their visions and elders dream dreams
I
will search in the humus, waiting
The
worms of the summer may pierce all my leaves
My
blood may be drunk up by little green thieves
I
will groan with them, as they weep honeydew
And
together we’ll hope, waiting
