The · Word · Pirate

A willow, green and bent
passing my attention lent
branching down I twisting went
in each bit of bark, I tore a vent
the roots they drank dripping sap
the trunk I burned to cinder black
the leaves I sternly shook and smoked
charred and curled and crisped and choked
I could not grow, so I unmade
a shadow of that tree--a shade
I sat under,
it swayed and cracked
down from the thunder
that I lacked