Where the Tree Forks

I travelled from the north And stood in a street where it forked. There in the middle was a twisted tree With leaves as far as the eye could see. I looked up in the sky through the leaves, Saw a Church Tower over the eaves Of the once ancient building so gothic; It's huge grey walls so stoic. I looked where the tree forked again, This time it began to rain. It created a sight so handsomely becoming, As a shadowy figure crept slowly, beckoning.