Interrogation of the wandering trees

Poetic it is 
To be a wandering tree—
Ambitious it is to refuse to breathe 
Through marshes of 
Dampened earthly leaves; and companies 
Of sodden soil-trapped roots.

How noble it is 
To despise the dirt? How confident
It is to proudly trust
The wind as a mean of gentle growth? 
The air as a substitute 
Of garden dust?

Should the thunders torch the sky 
And smudge the branches 
Raven black,
Would those frantic twigs of hands 
Cry murder 
As they bent in flame?

If the steely piercing axe
Hacked and hewed 
For the mighty fall,
Would the remnants dream of tomorrow
Nostalgically 
For what's left of home?

Dale Chou
2003-09-25