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The Red Bud Tree

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  • The Red Bud Tree

    In the westernmost part of the city,
    There is a grove where I thought and despaired,
    Wherein I wallowed in endless self-pity.

    The day’s heat made short work of my mind; I stared
    Blankly into the laden branches of the tree
    Until so stricken with woe I declared:

    “Here I shall sleep until answers befall me.
    I will shed worry and the knife of betrayal
    And drink so deeply of zinnia tea.”

    I did all this, but still feared I could fail
    To discover the cause of the treason.
    I lay back on my blanket of rusted nails,

    Balancing incoherence and reason.
    One eye saw shadow, the other saw the limbs
    Of the tree, whose leaves I’d seen in every season.

    When a breeze came, they sang gentle hymns
    If they were pink or green, but be they bare
    As they were then, the melody is grim.

    Mercy unto me by the Sun’s drying glare!
    Before summer unfolds, red fruits fell by my head
    Where devil’s shoestring crept near, my hope ensnared.

    Let fall storms of hail before I need dread
    A widening rift, cracked by envy,
    In which we both fall wearing shoes of lead.

    Before we defeated those picnickers many
    And took the shade, we both more beautiful things wrote:
    Symphony came easily when you gently

    Played these keys, and too often did we gloat.
    With each petty victory we mauled the wood,
    Until you bled bronze: a fallen dress, a missed note.

    I took from you the only things I could
    Without remorse, and let your poisonous vice free.
    So now you’re doomed, never great, only good.

    Awaken from this dream, so I can see
    You are trapped in the dying red bud tree.

    - DRCD
    - Las Vegas, NV