The Great Trees
Mid-summer and the woods are dry
Soil on hillsides runs to sand,
Ancient trees begin to die
Unless their roots are deeper than the roots of Man
Dry the season and the air
Draws out the running where it ran,
Beasts emerging when they dare
Drink from what lies deeper than the roots of Man
The wretched have no place to go
They fall of destitution where they stand, But even now the great trees grow
Because their roots send deeper than the roots of Man
Pavel
August 3, 2011
