I saw a tree was lying, along the forest floor.

a giant tumble-dying decaying, old, and sore

Its clod was wrenched and mounded right angled with the ground

 and roots were torn and hurting that once had anchored down.

The leaves lay brown and whispless, dis-playing with the breeze

while squirrels and woodland creatures hopped over them with ease.

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It seemed a little sorrow, to watch it dying there

a humbled soldier lying that once stood tall and dare.

But as I moved to pass it, I saw a lithely shoot

no bigger than a whisp-o-lisp. A little branching fruit,

and new that if I left it to lie the way it wood,

then soon the sprig might green and big

and spread it’s leafy hood.  

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Photo by Matthew: https://www.pexels.com