The Cutting Of The Tree

December 12th, 2013 by Magdalena Tabor

Will it hurt? asked little Thomas.
Not a bit, son, honest
Said the tall man
Brandishing a broad ax,tree1
Its blade glinting
In the waning sun.
Their breath blew clouds
That puffed like toy trains
Around and around
The handsome boughs,
When all at once he swung.
Thwack! echoing.
Thwack! echoing.
Thwack! Thud.
And it was done.
Thomas cried
To put it back
But the tall man only laughed.

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