O YOU shaggy-headed tree on the bank of the pond, have you forgotten the little child, like the birds that have nested in your branches and left you?  
Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at the of your roots that underground?
 
The women would come to fill their jars in the pond, and your huge black shadow would on the water like sleep struggling to wake up.
 
Sunlight danced on th............