A Hanging Tree's Swaying, Be Knot. Poem by Michael Gale

The flailings of rope's uneven noose...
Not held tight by a knot tied well too loose.
Hard listened for was but a lumbering thud...
Shadow shown fro' sun's light, measured
by tree's leaves just opened by any such buds...
Greenery foliage spills out well forward.
Gasped by all that had faces shocked as horror'ed...
Swinging shadows sway fro' front to back.
A knife's blade cut rope's vestige 'tween vines entwinned...
Harken warnings of crimes commited.
Break no laws as well as tryingly unwitted...
Moral fiber by many do lack.
Caught by cops, sent behind bars as one so enshrined...
No more criminal cancers that spread forth it's corruption, found
more recent- null and void, or well beneigne...
Punishment fits one bill.
Breakage of serious law, requires one to fill out thy last made will.