PAUL
MULDOON
WIND
AND TREE
In
the way that most of the wind
Happens where there are trees,
Most of the world is centred
About ourselves.
Often where the wind has gathered
The trees together,
One tree will take
Another in her arms and hold.
Their branches that are grinding
Madly together,
It is no real fire.
They are breaking each other.
Often I think I should be like
The single tree, going nowhere,
Since my own arm could not and would not
Break the other. Yet by my broken bones
I tell new weather.
Happens where there are trees,
Most of the world is centred
About ourselves.
Often where the wind has gathered
The trees together,
One tree will take
Another in her arms and hold.
Their branches that are grinding
Madly together,
It is no real fire.
They are breaking each other.
Often I think I should be like
The single tree, going nowhere,
Since my own arm could not and would not
Break the other. Yet by my broken bones
I tell new weather.
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