In the yard few would tread
One ancient tree stood alone,
Leafless, bark in sick red,
Bearing memories as old.
I knew him but not long,
Not the days of his gold,
And found in awe he was gone
After a night dreadfully cold.
Venerable shadow
No more, our giant we lost!
Grandiose stump wearing years slow
Was all, O, all...after frost.
Some small shrubs now from the thighs
Of yours themselves build, wavering
Their tiny hats to ignorant eyes,
Who see you not from the beheading greens.
In the yard I stand alone,
Singing on your resting bed,
Under which roots vein-like red,
Pumping memories as old.