Beneath

The trees–

greater than ourselves.

Towering above us all,

concerned with no one else.

They take what they like–

the sun and the moon.

Hiding beauty of the heavens.

Reaching deep into their room.

Greedy is their nature.

Robbing lesser one.

Laughing at the weaker.

Having all the fun.

 


 

The bird of grace and diligence

took away the pride

of the thundering tower of timbers.

“Get off me,” the haughty cried.

A wind took a little portion,

and, then again, a little more

of the greed the trees had sprawled.

Much lesser than they were before.

 


 

Below, the walking one is noisy.

It cuts with diligence.

Smoke rises as timber leans.

Neighboring, now growing tense.

They watch as little ones

cut up the mouthy king.

Stacks of of him are made,

while man and bird do sing.

 


 

A silent one, far off,

shakes its crown with shame

when thinking of the king

that fell in his disdain.

It welcomes the bird of beauty

allowing it to rest.

It has a heart of gold,

shading the men who rest.

It parts its sprawling existence

allowing heaven’s glance,

while the others shake their crowns

for giving the small a chance.

 

 

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