Fall is a sound I hear, crunching under foot
Such beauty, height, presence
A great mast she would be, fit for any king’s finest ship
Yet here amongst the mold and reeds she is most beautiful when she is just left be
Crack and blunder
Split asunder
Wind like a mighty cleaver
Has left this tree worse than beaver
Ragged edges, linen white
Makes the others shiver with fright
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