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The sun has escaped Winter’s cloudy prison
Spring begins to show her face in places once dark,
From each of her steps sprouts life,
Amidst this unhindered life,
Gnarled sycamores sit,
Ritualistically cut by men
They came with their tools and
Turned the trees into sad scarred examples.
Wild trees watch in terror
Rooted with fear
Same fate for them if they helped
Trees watch here while wealthy white men do the same
Horrific scarring Spring could never heal.