The Lesson

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?