Grey winds blow heavy through shattered limbs
Branches fall to barren grounds
Dusty earth where life no longer pounds
Seedlings of despair perish as hope dims
Withering shells of hollow tubes of bark
A thousand rings of red reached the sky
Minutes of anger shred the pulp with a lie
Heights of magic crashing down desolate and stark
Fertile protection of canopies green fades away
A blanket of needles, all that remains of historic might
Tight forgiving spaces widen with gradual decay
A desolate land where the bleak rise with the light
~philip m devin