The next stave of The Fir Tree

In autumn

The fir tree

Trembled to see

Woodcutters

Chopping,

The tallest trees

Toppling

To the ground

With a groan

And a crash.

Stripped naked,

They were loaded

Onto wagons

And driven away.

In spring, the swallows returned

And the stork appeared,

Singing songs of oceans and ships

With magnificent mast trees that smelled of fir.

When Christmas came around,

Quite young trees were chopped down;

The sparrows told the fir tree a story

Of trees in houses in the town,

Decorated with gilded apples,

Gingerbread, toys and hundreds of candles.

The fir tree yearned for Christmas,

To be carried away and dressed in splendour and glory;

Ignoring

The fresh

Air and sun,

In which

It felt no

Pleasure –

It just grew

And grew.

The Fir Tree Stave 2