the little Tree

a Tree born
Sapling young and fair
without knobbly scar
without limbs grown too far.

a Tree grows
still slender and young
but too soon these branches
grow the wrong way out.
She let herself be led astray
and twisted wrong She is today.

and forest fires have their ways
of getting to the most
secluded Trees.
This One barely made it
out alive.

burn blackened bark
She is wounded from her first ring out.
stripped of Blossom or of Leaf
her branches still show the
wrong way out She's grown
too many times.
slipping into Autumn
and her Heart dies within her.
Winter winds will be too strong;
her fears shake her.

but Spring waits with a seed of Hope
and fair Tree waits too.

who knows when the Gentle Forester
will come and cut these branches right?

and come April
She could be shining fair again.
this time stronger.