Felling the yew
The tree in the garden was a yew,
it’s red fruit succulent and benign
but the toxicity of the seeds tainted
the ruined couple’s blood and their progeny.
The needled limbs of that ancient yew
poison yet the garden breeze;
its roots contaminate the soil,
the wind-and-rain-scattered seeds
seasonally propagate new toxins.
Many a game child has tried their honed axe
upon that lonely tree grown iron-like and huge
but it requires instead an abeyance and a spurning,
a love-soaked immobilization and purity
possessed by no son or daughter of Adam.
It requires a blow by a lightweight,
reborn, new life, post-garden child of God.
O child of God, pray someday your pen name
reflects the accomplished reality of your soul.
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