Hickory
Take you no bread nor wine.
Craving will die in time.
For those who endure rime
will know a joy sublime.
Hanging from windswept tree,
know yourself, know your deeds.
Drooping now over scree,
suffer in bitter glee.
Many days without cup.
Many nights without sup.
Riddles and truths unstuck.
Screaming still, take them up.
Cut down from hickory,
rise now in victory.
Feat for the century,
spread now your alary.
Copyright © Welkin Underwood | Year Posted 2020
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