He stands,
Towering to Heaven,
In stark nakedness.
Come rain,
Come sun,
Come harmattan.
He stands naked,
In disgrace,
Exposed
to the seasons.
He stands out,
Naked in the green,
Withered
amongst 'greenth'.
Birds and animals
forsake him,
He has no shade.
But between
his heavy roots
Is a brook,
Where faeries
drink immortality.
Dead trees!
They stand aloof,
Antagonizing
The World's Order.