A Tree Can't Sing
A tree can't sing;
They say mice go 'squeak'
And fish go 'sploosh'
But a tree is renowned for
Its taciturn trunk.
Its teeth of dead bark,
Bite together to block the tongue
From ever becoming a lingua.
Birds perch on its attempt to do so.
They sound their arie,
Or croak coarse cacophonies
To their fat chicks and partners.
A tree must simply cover it's face
In its willowy fringe
And wait for Autumn to take its leaf
And Winter to frost it's sap.
But it never quite happens
And a tree is caught in a new world
Blooming ferociously into being.
So he remakes his old, shed clothes
And hides from the
Scoffing serenades of an unphased nature.
I wish the tales of ten thousand and two trees to be heard
They may take their roots out of the mud yet.
Comments about this poem (A Tree Can't Sing by Sandy Player )
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