In the most bizarre fashion,
I’m mourning for a log.
Once the king of the trees,
the tallest among them all,
it’s branches majestically reaching toward the sun,
Now landed on ground, in chunks and pieces.
I never knew him personally-
we would only exchange polite smiles
while we passed each other in the park
- but he was always generous,
always sharing his prosperity with passers-by.
In the most ridiculous fashion,
an elegy for a log.