you're a lovely twit, i see you there,
sat          up          high
day       n       night
in the twit
twoo tree.
Watching
years fly pass.
Hungrily devouring those
  precious stolen morsels, you sigh,
longing for the tastiest dish
lost in the long grass.
You
are
tw   oo.
Spanning wide, spreading high, strength from the roots, honest sap in the bark, all that you are
a beautiful, wonderous, lifesource
yet
evil lurks
amongst the whispering green.
Pretty owls who are pecking all the pie, when
eye cleansing rain reveals them, as painted little crows on haunches;
Greedy selfish birds, only feathering their own nests, trying before they buy.
So wait, you will, for the phoenix of your dreams. Soon. She'll emerge so bright
as the smoke becomes her, perhaps with a flame for you, to burn the grasses of her hiding place.