Tall slender trees
Supporting their own dead
Scarce sunlight leaves
The only green upon their heads
Protected from
Disaster and provision
Overgrown forest
Destined for incineration
Let the fires burn
While the forest is yet young
Clear away the undergrowth
Grow strong beneath the sun
Let its generosity
Bless with beam and board
Tall trees rising
Cathedral ceilings soar

The fruitless tree
Reaching all its hands above its head
Afraid of the shears
Pruning what is misled
Neglect is no kindness
To budding wisdom
Desperate for the sunlight
Overzealous lacking discipline
Tender are the shears
The orchardist’s loving correction
To desperate reaching
Without purpose or direction
Abiding unhurried
Branches plump with spreading health
Fruit hangs heavy
The tree displaying its great wealth

The desperate man
Reaching in every direction
Grasping for purpose
Trying to win some competition
Overgrown suckers
Drain away vitality
Afraid to be relieved
Of what feeds his vanity
Afraid of the fires
That could give him space to breathe
A miser of dead wood
Choked by his own greed
Let cleansing fires burn
Open up cathedral skies
Let creator’s shears
Direct your fruitful life