The Good Tree

The good tree cannot bear
Bad fruit
It is only ordinary to the eye
Of those unused to
Studying the form
Or tasting goodness,
Tree roots descend
Deep into the heart of
Our mother mineraled earth.

The good tree
May suffer the severe
Tests of winter's frost,
Languish beneath the harsh
Burning summer heat,
Wilt from the drought,
And die before its time.

The good tree
Harbours the birds of the air
Giving a home nest to little ones
Its leaves shimmering
Always rustling a lullaby
In summer breezes,
And shade to the tiny plants
Growing in its goodness
Safe from the harsh
Assaults of daily toil.

The good tree will not bear
Bad fruit, there are
Those who take its goodness
And rot within themselves
From choice of reckless folly,
Who rejoice to see it die
Cut down by
The fury of the future.

But the little plants
Will always sing sweetly into time,
Rejoice with a memories embrace
The goodness this tree sent forth,
For now
Deep beneath the daylight shadows
It has earned its rest.