Written by Jenny Graver

The spirit of the tree
reaches out to me.
What's it trying to say?

The rustle of the leaves
scatters my believes.
I'm born anew this May.

Like the rest of the world,
I believed the common word
that the tree is truly dead.

But now that I behold,
I don't believe what I've been told,
my minds no longer lead.

(c)1998 - Jenny Graver.