Trees + 

Crooked, black tree + 

on your little grey-black hillock, + 

ridiculously raised one step toward + 

the infinite summits of the night: + 

even you the few grey stars + 

draw upward into a vague melody + 

of harsh threads. + 

Bent as you are from straining + 

against the bitter horizontals of + 

a north wind⁠—there below you + 

how easily the long yellow notes + 

of poplars flow upward in a descending + 

scale, each note secure in its own + 

posture⁠—singularly woven. + 

All voices are blent willingly + 

against the heaving contra-bass + 

of the dark but you alone + 

warp yourself passionately to one side + 

in your eagerness. + 