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The day of
the oak tree, growing downward
Sinking snarled roots into fertile sky
Immovable and solid as a crumpled brown
leaf
Thrown skyward on a snowy March wind that
blows
Swaying, straining, breaking over and
down
Blowing, blooming willows on a sunny
April day
They say a broken
tree has failed in life
For having broken from its purpose
And fallen from its stated goals and
expectations
It will not again reach upward and stand
Providing the shade and shelter that make
it of use
Which is, after all, the reason for its
birth
From the seed its parent fed
They say the fallen
hulk deserves to
Break, rot, crumble, - die - , be fed
upon by termites
A fallen tree is not good for anything
You can not depend upon it to be there
Standing, holding, shading, holding,
A world of creatures who rely upon it
For food, shelter and insight, Yes who
rely upon it.
They say the willow
failed when it fell
But if you look carefully, you will
realize how wrong they are
Remember the thousand severed branches of
furry kittens
Shoved into and drowned in a hundred
slimy jars
For each spring's mother and teacher and
favorite acquaintance?
Shoved into a jar to be forgotten on the
window seal
Until the kittens are dead and their
pleasant furry warmth is gone?
Gone and replaced by the stench of green
slimy water
Green slimy water in an old stinky jar,
reeking of death
Remember the
thousand severed branches of furry
kittens
They lost their beautiful fur and died,
forgotten in the jar
But wait - Didn't they refuse to die? Don't
you remember?
When they threw away the dead brown
sticks
That once gray kittens played upon
When they pulled the sticks from the
black putrid water
There were roots. Roots had grown from
each brown stick
Each stinking jar tried and did kill the
exuberant youthful kittens
But did not succeed to kill the branch,
to kill the tree
To kill the willow, refusing to die,
clinging to life
They say the willow failed but they are
wrong
For anyone can see that they are blind
and can not see
The fallen willow grasping and hugging
the earth
And then next spring bursting forth in
victory
With an army of new willows with kittens
Claiming victory and continued life in
its rightful place
Which is but to continue being a willow
Without pretense of being something else
Of being a pine, of being a maple, of
being an oak
They said the
willow should have been like the oak
But wasn't the oak tree growing upside
down?
Turned top over to meet the world's
standards
Can you see that they are wrong?
The day of the oak tree, growing downward
Is gone and overcome by a better day
A day of love for life and willows being
themselves
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