Treed

In this tree, you see I have no need. Indeed I have all I need in plenty. Clean air, cool breeze and, sure, I’ll share the shade beneath these leaves! Great grubs to grub with this bird who sings. I’ll stretch and scratch my back on bark and bark? BARK? Why, yes, Hark! Bark! The sound from the ground so horribly heavenly bound. Is it me it’s found? For in my soul it heavily resounds. Suddenly no bird who sings nor breeze and—oh, my leaves! they left me for the ground. OOoooo that hound! Insistently Persistently consistently He stays. Never weary. Never leaves He stays. Ugh that sound from the Hound on the ground! Surely it’s not me he’s found, for in this tree I’m bound --I mean, a bound— but that sound…