In The Dark Poem by Ima Ryma

To a Christmas tree farm I go.
I'm going to cut my own tree.
I find the one I like and so
I start cutting with energy.
And then I hear a wailing sound.
The tree branches begin to shake.
Tree roots come rising from the ground.
A quick escape I try to make,
But find I cannot move at all.
A sticky sap that smells of fir
Engulfs me and over I fall.
Then ev'rything becomes a blur.

I wake up in the E.R. and
Remember but don't understand.