Based on a True Story
One night in early spring it snowed
enshrouding house and tree and road
a gift, it seemed, left in the dark
that in the morning sunlight glowed.
All set to go from on their mark
with childish squeal and puppy bark
a copse of children I could see
go sliding downhill in the park.
I walked on to the library
where underneath a glistening tree
by a stone wall I met a friend
who’d just read a great mystery.
“There’s darkness in the hearts of men,”
he said, “it hides inside them, then
explodes in violence, just like all
diseased trees break and never bend.”
Then in that park, by that stone wall
the heavy snow made a tree fall.
It sent a young girl to her grave
and over glory cast a pall.
Where is the lesson we can save
for the enlightenment we crave,
when tree limbs die all over town
and no warden cuts them down?
