Ode to Corky And His Dying Japanese Maple.

My bro was joking about sleeping next to his tree in the cold so it wouldn't have to die alone, so I wrote him this one.

Yes, I know most of my poems are absolutely ridiculous.

But they make me happy.


Ode to Corky And His Dying Japanese Maple.
Beneath the dying maple,
a boy... no, a man, lie weeping
clutching the trunk—
a last embrace,
a last farewell,
a last leaf poised to dry
a last tear.