An Elm
The tree, it burst forth from the ground
No warning root or mound
Its lump-ed, creased, and folded form
Of wood so deviant from the norm
And yet so elegantly placed, each branch and leaf and knot
This malproportioned hour glass that ever I saw wrought
The twiggy bush 'neath canopy, and 'tween them naked bark
So strange a sight, this wild tree, here in the city park
The sunlight filters, changes hues, the leaves both near and back
From mottled greens to solid gold, such palates never lack
And whispering with passing breeze they flash and change attire
Ne'er the same, this Seussian tree, that I watch and I admire
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