any more curves in that tree
wind-twisted trunk
weather-bent branches
one down then up
in a hairpin turn
to greet the sun
it stands alone bird less
no comfortable perches
holes in the canopy
an ugly angle
to the leaves
one more curl
of bark would only add
to nature’s artistic greed
to the fateful feel
of this poem
would only highlight
an agony of stems
over the will
to live
against all odds