Poetry
When trees weep
Ground is torn open,
a weeping fresh wound,
death’s long dark shadow,
planting fear in the heart.
Lament works of men,
all crushed cold and broken,
widows appear startled,
like shadows in the
Ground is torn open,
a weeping fresh wound,
death’s long dark shadow,
planting fear in the heart.
Lament works of men,
all crushed cold and broken,
widows appear startled,
like shadows in the