My Tree

Though heavy is it bent long is the thought deep was the cause Standing alone in the rain. Few and few, my words and too you, yes you do i speak. What do you see, On my branch Black is the bird long are it’s feathers underneath they are red sitting in the same spot Of my tree. Building room for the night. Would; that i was a squirrel not harming sweet the bark ever feral sitting up i'm never still filling long hollow trunks with nut’s gathered green brown getting ready for the winter growing fat here comes the spring.