billy@calico.UUCP (Billy Green) (10/14/86)
****REPLACE THIS LINE WITH YOUR IAMBIC PENTAMETER**** EPISODE ------- The trees begin to move so quietly. The boy stoops to dig a hole in mud. A dampness hangs from bough to bough to bough; The rain has gone to visit in the town. The boy finds a twig on which a bud Had grown. It will not get to grow more now. The rain has brought it here. It has come down From this big tree. The boy stoops once more And digs again. He digs both wide and deep. A mockingbird lights on a branch and sings. The boy stops his digging while the bird Begins its dirge. The twig has lost its war. The boy lays the twig to its eternal sleep And buries it. The bird lifts up its wings And takes to flight. Without a single word, The boy stands and bows his head. He says A silent prayer. He waves good-bye to this Small friend that he will never, ever know. He thinks the tree will never be the same. He turns to leave, to choose which of the ways He'll use to go back home. He thinks he'll miss This unknown friend. He hopes that he will grow And blossom, and that snow and wind and rain Will not cut short his life. That has been done To this tall tree, whose blossoms number now One less than they did yesterday. A drop Of rain lands on the boy's cheek and rolls Down to his chin. The rain has come back home. The boy runs as fast as he can now To get home well before another drop Can hit. He tries to think that red hot coals Are underfoot. His speed grows more and more. He's scarcely able to slow down before He hits the porch and opens Mother's door. Billy Green Carrboro, NC (Paris of the South) {seismo, decvax, philabs, akgua}!mcnc!calico!billy (P.S., As with most iambic pentameter, this poem was meant to be read aloud-- preferrably to yourself, without making allowances for the rhyme scheme.) Lord, it's just like living in a tome (sic) I like calling North Carolina foam. (really sic)