The tree in our backyard stood as if
It was alive and shaking with a wind.
To birds that came to it, it was alive.
Birds pretended tree was still alive.
They were polite not wanting to hurt,
Talking of weather and crops, usual .
They talked but did not look in eyes
Surrounded by see through bones.
They pretended eyes were still alive.
It is awkward to look away from eyes
Birds have old school polite manners.
Tree was too polite to admit its death.
When it comes to death everybody
Pretends and everyone is too polite.
But a wood-cutter’s ax is not polite.
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