Oh, those high waters are rising;
They've spilled their banks in flood,
Slouching toward the Tree of Life:
Its roots immersed in mud.
That tree is just so stout & straight --
Unambitious of height --
Not man nor beast could knock it down,
Regardless of their might.
But just a long soak of its roots --
A gift of too much good --
And then a well-timed gust of wind
Will turn that tree to wood.
beyond the lone pine;
there is only blank slate
and vast potential.
willows dangle
over flowing waters:
reaching not touching.
in each forest,
there is a tree that is not
like any others.
a hilltop tree,
bowed as if wind-shaped,
won’t budge for a breeze.
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
some are made speechless
by falling cherry blossoms,
but -- for others --
speechlessness comes from
a mouthful of the fruits.
a lone pine stands --
mangled and misshapen --
above other trees.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 