the na ked branches scratch the sky.
their leaves have long been blown into the sewer.
the purple sky just beyond those ancient
branches sinks away, following dear Apollo
past the horizon.
i cannot help but admire your determination.
little branches, you would seem the weakest of
the strongest tree,
yet with audacity you defy the wind
and the beating sun.
flush with instinctive valor do you reach
to those heavens
demanding the breath of air
and the time of day
that will prolong your steadfast lord.
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