My Tree Poem by James McLain

Though heavy is it bent
long is the thought
deep was the cause
Standing alone in the rain.
Few and few, my words
and too you, yes you do
i speak.
What do you see,
On my branch
Black is the bird
long are it’s feathers
underneath they are red
sitting in the same spot
Of my tree.
Building room for the night.
Would; that i was a squirrel
not harming sweet the bark
ever feral
sitting up i'm never still
filling long hollow trunks
with nut’s gathered green
brown
getting ready for the winter
growing fat
here comes the spring.