Brian King

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Ode To A Tree

The unkept beauty of a tree, you.
Brings much joy to me.
Thy bark is brown, with leaves of green.
With colors richer than the sky's blue.
Thy perfection is easy to see.
When you are the only thing I on which I can lean.

Nature is the sanctuary of trees, you.
Your friends are almost as divine.
Your compatriots make the boundless woods.
The man will cut down a friend, who?
The chainsaw did shine, horribly shine.
There are coulds, shoulds, woulds.

Are you an angel or a temptress
With no ready flaw?
You watch me live, eat, sleep.
You rule me like a malicious empress.
I cannot escape you by tooth and claw.
What my life has sown is all I can reap.

I can almost hear a small Lorax
Coming from within a trunk.
His eyes sad, his mustache thick
Centered with a furry thorax.
He has a jarred walk, a clack click.
He has a scream that makes me sick.

Trees are precious.
Trees are pure.
Trees are giving me strife.
O tree, are you malicious?
Why have you made me a Muir?
Why will you not return my life?

Each leaf is endlessly complex.
A marvel to the hands of evolution
Or perhaps the theory of God.
Sacrificed to feed insects
Turned brown by pollution
Less beautiful to man than sod.

Life is internal and external
Slowly withering you away.
Thy death comes from life
It is a process eternal
Nobody asks if you are okay
Defenseless against all strife.

Life always follows nature
No matter how many cities and towns.
There are cougars, queen bees
And others with no nomenclature.
To call them beasts would solicit a frown.
For some are no more than fleas.

Man does not recycle his kin
And nature makes sure to do
He loathes death, fears death.
To cause it is a sin.
A man could be a fertilizing goo.
But the law is concrete, always kept.

Using an ax on a man is murder.
To use it on a tree is a job.
Hacking a computer is a crime.
Hacking a lamb is being a herder.
Montana make one think of the mob
Before the trees with leave lime.

Trees are without motion
But can move every man
Except for those with greed
And men that sail the ocean
Isolation can make any fan
Ignorant of his own creed.

The worst sound is silence
remarked Rachel, quite insane
Silence is golden death
Without the need for violence
Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane
Is more toxic than crystal meth.

O tree, beloved tree
Against which I lean
Why do you take this hell
When you are so lovely?
O tree with beauty so pristine
You will not die without my yell.

The strongest thing I know, you.
Cannot fall to man like this.
You are wood, but you are real.
Why do my brothers not have a clue?
Why are you not treasured like ambergris?
Why is your life they must steal?

O my deceased friend, you
Are nothing now but wood.
My efforts were in vain
Not a nose was blew
When you fell before you should
O tree, why are they not Cain?

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