Kudzu And The Pine by Dorsey G. Singleton

the seed is airborne, from its mother tall,
cast by the wind, in the season fall,
beginning of new life, roots touch the soil,
winters breathe whispers, now you must toil,
dig down deeper, beyond the frosty line,
right into my bosom, earth beckons with a sign,
the winter so harsh, had come and gone,
the resurrect of spring, heard the infants' moan,
warm rain and wind, danced the little tree,
with breath and color, a giant it could be,
the forest was alive, all shared a belief,
winter nights were over, nature gave relief,
a sinister wind blew, dusty strange debris,
the dark and evil seed, near the little tree,
the little pine watched, it sprang from the ground,
curious of the tentacles, that waved all around,
closer and closer it grows every day curling and unleashing,
the pine bends away the contact will come,
with the little tree, dashing hopes and dreams,
the giant it could be, unlike the ghetto child,
it has no little feet, to move at mortal will,
from evil to retreat.