Sylvia Plath Tree Poems

"This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs at my feet as if I were God,
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility.
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How this tart fable instructs
And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap
Set in the proverbs stitched on samplers
Approving chased girls who get them to a tree
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A dream tree, Polly's tree:
a thicket of sticks,
each speckled twig
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Tell me what you see in it :
The pine tree like a Rorschach-blot
black against the orange light :
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