Tree

Tree

Yong Wan Choi 04.12.08

Trees live, and the hills and fields breathe
when the passing spring wind stops to wake them from winter sleep
ashamed of their naked bodies, they put on new clothes

The trunk stands with its feet planted firm on the ground
lifting two arms to hold up the sky
aching season by season, winding on its rings

The roots hide the old years in the soil
and wait demurely, dreaming of a heavy-laden harvest
cocking an ear to the passing clouds, laughing alone

Keeping its place, with the last of its strength
it makes shade on the heated earth
and even in the flames stands straight, burning itself away