Tree, Poet
Unbound tree grow out your arms
For me to rest, I mean no harm
To you, my friend, you are the grit
Upon your bows I’ve come to sit
Two hundred twelve strange years ago
Brotherly words were here bestowed
A painting whispered him by you
Alas, you’ve beckoned me here too
A soundless grasp, I had to fly
Sailing far ‘cross the valley’s skies
The whisps and whirls upon the walls,
of Plesse Burg, tower and all
With sandstone pocks
Cannon rubble
One Linden tree
And one thick novel
A village far below
The poem it sees it all
In the eyes of the world
For Goethe, I and all
Sturdy friend of windy branches
You will not soon leave my heart
You’ve graced me with six stanzas
But I’m afraid I must depart
A very nice read.
A very nice read.
My chance to send you a thank
My chance to send you a thank you C.E. Vance.
Do you remember why we're here?