Wayward branches emerging here and there,
The small fir tree grapples toward the sun.
The trunk curves like a roller coaster track
And needles form its very covering.
Other trees have leaves, but this tree none
Only the harsh commodities given to it by God.
"Put me out of my misery!" the tree pleads.
"I am the smallest, most insignificant tree."
A small gust of wind causes the poor structure to waver,
And rain only soaks its scrawny figure.
Dead needles fall upon the dirty ground
…
