Poem: The Cull

The axe swung wide,
It was meant to prune,
But it took much good wood in its swath.
Replant they did, some young saplings all too keen to grow,
Unhardened to the winds that would surely come and blow,
And without the support or shelter of the older trees,
That they had too quickly come to project above,
They succumbed and withered to the breeze.

Still the stubborn axemen could not concede,
Their clumsy attempt at reformation.
They hastily propped up, event the faulted breeds,
Believing they could nuture and still sell them as trees.

Alas men dare not say, but all well knows,
And will remember that,
These poor saplings have no leaves,
As did the emperor, have no clothes.