Plane Tree Dance Sequences

The amputated branches
of plane trees in France
make good use of time
and live in French events.
Roundelay. Roundelay.
Shine, pretty sun.

Rain, snow, the seedcase
of stars are embedded in
a memory of reaching farther out
than wanted by the town.

Roundelay. Roundelay.

White as a pillowcase,
shine pretty moon.
A woodsman dreams the Lord of Saws
laps up blood from a plain wood bowl.

Sing, sweet birds. Cool days come
followed by warm. Who finds
the woodsman’s severed head,
the print of a branch pressed
to the bed?

Jeanne-Marie, his two-fisted daughter
who makes good use of time
and dances with her lover
in the town dance hall.

Roundelay. Roundelay.
Shine, pretty hearse,
taking the woodsman back to his roots,
past rows of trees raising their fists
to contemptible France.

Roundelay, roundelay,
end of the dance.