Oh Baus, beware the Ashen Tree - With roots that crumple bird and beast, The needle-like, one two, two three, Branches lay a grotesque feast. Do sit and pant and scruff thy treat, My darling Baus – my mighty fiend, Dressing your teeth with rancid meat, Lick the pucid bones be cleaned. Don't look askance - my dearheart, or Tremble soft at its boughs pristine; For I be one with earth and ore, A sleepy spore of servile green. Come and sinketh teeth within, my Fleshly roots that crave the air; And nibble bitty at my sly, Leaves that fall as maidens hair. Beware dear Baus, the Ashen Tree; Of friend or foe unsure be I - Sit wary under cumbrous three, Or in branch'ed death, you die!
© copyright Eve Redwater 2011