Ode To The Withered Tree Poem by pere isaac afezu

Consequence of the season
Hath deprived thee thy extravagance
And made you frozen
To doubt your stance

Now your dance is empty
And you mourn without sound
For thy filth is plenty
Blindfolding the eye of your ground

Again the winds descend
And thy courtesies are in vain
For thy nakedness are not mend
And double is thy pain

But if thy stance be kept
Relief is to thy agony
Abundant offspring to glorify thy attempt
For thy leaf to be tawny is an irony

Added to thy freshness
Is admiring winds to blow
Making thy sway of joy endless
And thy span slow

(28/11/2007)