Silhouette (1957-58)

Most trees I see
Have still a few leaves
Dangling from dull brown branches.
But there is one tree.
A magic tree.
Standing on the very top
Of a high hill.
The sky behind it
Is brilliant with the glow
Of a setting sun;
The magic tree stands there,
Against a golden ceiling.
Every limb showing clearly,
Reaching, straining upward,
Trying to hold the ball of fire.
But the sun slips from the tree's grasp
Floats down to the horizon;
The tree stands there,
Still reaching upward,
Empty, black and silhouette.

M. A. GOWER, 3D