Far off into the woods, 

A voice came calling,

Therein,  the rain came falling.

Suddenly some trees started singing;

Others started flapping,

Their wings in a joyous zapping. 

Then I saw some trees shed their lyrics, 

Lyrics wielded of words as light as the gall of a swan. 

Bewildered, I ask, 'For who do you sing such mirth?' 

Gleeing, the oldest tree says, 'we sing, but not for ourselves.  We sing for ye'

Then I saw their faces spread into an ocean of smile. 

Nay, a cluster of melodious songs rose from their lips. 

Then I saw the youngest of all the trees, 

Light-faced and hairy, with tiny little hands and colossal legs, which where buried in the innocent ground. 

It whispered some words to its fellows,

Words so tiny and light, like a tint of a tear. 

They were for her ears and her cronies only. 

Then I saw a middle-aged malnutritioned tree shed a sweat. 

Her sweat was so heavy, 

It caused the earth's heart to pulsate. 

Bewildered she asked me, 'what do ye seek in this fiendish land?' 

Thereof, I saw some pale-faced sleepy trees lie placidly on their beds. 

Then the imps also followed suit. 

Aloft on the trunk of the great Bristlecone pine;

The great hummingbird took her string. 

As she sung, all the trees, but the young ones slept off. 

Then some trees started dancing, 

Their roots swaying from side to side, 

Crushing the youngest ones who were sprouting.

The hummingbird's music was soothing and piercing. 

It also had a horde of fiendly notes; 

Which made some trees act fiendishly. 

The sprouting trees whose fantasies and dreams about life, 

Were being crushed,

Cried to flooded streams. 

Then I saw one whose eyes gleamed,

With blood and anger.

Her eyes had turned heavy and bloodshot.  

Her lips were soiled with tears and sweat. 

Then it muttered to me:

'Our life is as you see. As we try to grow up some grown ups who do not intend for us to be successful in our quest to grow up, crush us like stones at a quarry.' 

Tears strummed from her eyes, until they gloated the earth's throat. 

Then I saw another boisterous-looking sprouting tree sweep her brow with her hand. 

She was all sweaty, and her eyes were as tired as that of an insomniac bairn.

She looked into my eyes, as if she had something to say,

Then as if she had been nudged, she leapt forward and said to me, 'such is life. Your life is no different. One man for himself, each for the gallows!' 

Then she strolled away...

©Cornelius Evans