I saw them cut it,
got right to the girth
the Axe heads.
The noises it gives birth,
when it weeps,
in the weary sunlight
its shadow fades.
O! what the sun was for
can't even darken a shadow,
spring's depart in autumn,
it left the meadows
last fruits ripen,
doors past the
november winds.
©thewindy
A