the stick tree stands solemn in the wind
indifferent to the world around it
beautiful as ever, that sturdy stick
a moon ago it wasn't a stick
it was a plain tree like any other
but one artist had a vision.
a raw vision.
it was: banish the frivolity of the fir
snip snip snap snap
and away went the leaves
snip snip snap snap
next fell the twigs
behold!
the essence of the tree emerged
but the vision still incomplete.
SNIP SNIP SNAP SNAP
the dance became a frenzy
SNIP SNIP SNAP SNAP
he squeezed with all his might
shears flying
artist sighing
boy becomes man
tree becomes stick
now brown beauty rid of baggage
reach to the sky
sure of root and straight like arrow
pure, unadulterated stick
