while all the other branches in green skirts
have been twirling for days now
one twig stands stiff
neither sun nor wind can wake it
winter must have smothered it
though no one seems to care
the songbirds of June just
sing happy songs not yet time
for the funeral refrains of fall
only the mother tree notices
but there’s no time to pray now
too many young leaves to care for
perhaps later during a night rain
she’ll bow her head
and shed a few tears
and try not to wake them
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