Patient

Trust the beating throbs of life within this
Tree to be just another simple free
Falling form, as it crashes with a thud!
Yet cutting down magnificence, ear buds
In place to prevent Maleficence flee,
Tired lumberjacks heard the sounds amiss!
Forge if you will inside your minds, and kiss
This image to your skull, the kinds of bliss
Felt by beating pulses at their wrists. Bless
Quickly yourself as you gasp from the test;
And as the tree comes falling down to rest,
There is one small thing that I suggest. Best
Not cut down this tree that has beating clocks
In it's hands and legs, gently sways and rocks.

                                      Patient, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012