Sad little tree, bedecked with Man’s elapsed
lights, ornaments and bows…no more will strive
to heights below sun’s cosmic plan, collapsed
by weight of sap-drained star, no more alive.

So, weep, little tree, entrapped by sad Man’s
fright, bowed and ornamental; weep freely
belittled symbol, dried tears of fear spans
demise, cradled by needles, concretely

set in sad solitude of earth’s façade,
ornamented in faithless bow of blight,
benumbed by frigid eyes of loveless god
that created self-will’s selfish delight.

Souled little tree, let spirit leave; expired,
your sacrifice is all that is required.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/26/03