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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Alder Trees
The low sun glitters through the alder trees,
I'm walking home through willow leaves; this fen
is so familiar - felled by a disease,
That birch has lain there ages - maybe ten
Years, since it crashed from the graceful heights;
And gave a place for me to take a rest,
Sometime alone - I'd look up at delights:
The fluffy clouds that passed; but it was best
When he was there and bade me cut a switch,
From that same fallen tree; and had me bare
Myself, so he could satisfy his itch
To taste the power of discipline and dare
To strike me hard until the day was done;
As alders witnessed under that low sun.
(With thanks to Taryn for the picture)
I'm walking home through willow leaves; this fen
is so familiar - felled by a disease,
That birch has lain there ages - maybe ten
Years, since it crashed from the graceful heights;
And gave a place for me to take a rest,
Sometime alone - I'd look up at delights:
The fluffy clouds that passed; but it was best
When he was there and bade me cut a switch,
From that same fallen tree; and had me bare
Myself, so he could satisfy his itch
To taste the power of discipline and dare
To strike me hard until the day was done;
As alders witnessed under that low sun.
(With thanks to Taryn for the picture)
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