that                        tree                     has                       no                         leave­s,    
they                 fell                 in        Autumn          as           they              should,
but              now         life           stretches            up,          making         bridges
         between      dirt             and         heaven,         and          the          tree        
remains         remains,            a      crack       in the           lens of
the        eye,        but        please         don't            chop
it      down,        it       *****      at the         crud
still     and        is     not       done,        it is
too  cold   and  hollow     to      burn,
the   flame   would   be   quick
and gone,
so leave the
sharp twig
limbs,
to scratch at
the earth
and battle
decay in
vain