Slava OlchevskiPoems

No. 0367 · Poems 2020–2024 ·

Old walnut tree

It was raining this morning and all day yesterdayThe old walnut tree was cut, it was dead many years, anyway.The ropes were pulled to make sure it falls in the right directionAnd the giant, couldn't resist a sharp chainsaw cutting actionYet, spewing wood dust and chips, it still was making its last standI stood at attention, listening to the invisible forrest band