Su Ben Poet Free verse

The Dead Tree and the Pierrot

—A certain weather forecast—

for he has no home to return
a pierrot painted with snow-white make-up
walks under the moonlight up and down restlessly

under the sky, the pierrot
sleeps all curled up because of the nightly chilling air,
now stands with both arms stretched out to the air;
the moonlight streams in through the openings between 
the pierrot’s spread fingers dyes his face to pale blue

a leaf that was blown off by the passing wind is
being shoved and tumbled all about the lakeside 
like the pierrot on the stage, 
now returns to the tree where the leaf was conceived 
and clings on the tip of a broken branch, and asks 
tomorrow’s weather condition for his bygone days 
were the series of miseries

on tomorrow,
the rain that is heavier than the moonlight
comes through pierrot’s spread fingers
may fall and hit his face pitilessly

on tomorrow,
the rain that is colder than the spray of a breaker
hits the lakeside breakwater
may bring a wild wind
to push the poor pierrot’s back 
and shove around here and there cold-heartedly

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