A tree, standing barren, naked, lost.
A branch, weighed down by nothing but itself.
A leaf, drifting into the neck-breaking frost.

A group of people gathers with a hushed tone.
A black clad group, silently vexed,
Around a weeping rock, a crying stone.

A young voice breaks through,
"Mommy, will He ever take you?"

She turns away and so falls a tear

into a rising pile of lamentable fear.