The wood knows
And it grows
And it shows
It knows the seasons
It knows the winter
And the spring
And the very many things
That that does bring
It buds
And it sprouts
It grows tall with a shout!
You think you hear a noise
And you look out
But all you see is your yard
All is still
It's green
And brown
And purplish blue
It appears attractive to you
It invites
It despites
It offers respite
To those that would bite
The wood dances
It prances
Not just in the fire
It knows the need is dire
So it doesn't hate
The hour is too late
For such things
Looking again
Things seem different
You can’t put your finger on it
Yet, all seems still
This tree has a brain
It’s wood contains veins
Like tracks for the running of trains
Going up and down
Around and about
Commands pass
From crown to root
And it edges closer
To it’s goal to spout shoots
Down you old coal chute
Up through the floor
And under your old boot
It will grow in the wall
All down the hall
Until there is a knock at your door
You’ll ask who it is
It will answer
“Candygram”
You’ll open up eagerly
Only to see the tree
What happens then
Is a mystery you see
The tree
Simply hasn’t thought
Past that point
Looking at it
Or at least the part of it
That is there in front of you
It seems normal
Simply part of a tree
Oddly in your upstairs hallway
And of course
Quite still
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