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I Envy the Aspen’s Sleek Body

Unmoved, while her leaves shake, turn color, fall.  
Alone, naked, enduring all; she’s bare again.

This is an exercise in making a longer poem as short as it can be, in the fashion of Ezra Pound’s, “In a Station of the Metro.”

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.

The first draft of this poem was, “Her Arms.”

I envy the Aspen,
With her sleek, white body,
She stands unmoved,
While her leaves shake,
Turn color, fall,
And she is left,
Naked and alone,
In wind, rain, snow,
Enduring all,
Judging none,
No complaining.
In spring, I remember
Her limbs rejoiced
In buds, then leaves,
And birds.
They gathered
In her arms:
Robin, magpie,
Sparrow, finch, falcon.
This autumn was summer,
Then winter,
She is bare again.
The chickadees bounce
From perch to perch,
Fully happy in her embrace.
During this too early winter,
When we lose faith,
Fall to our knees,
Barely endure
dark day after dark day;
She stands reaching,
Arms outstretched to the sun
Beyond the clouds.
You must see now,
Why I envy the Aspen,
How she will survive,
And thrive, beyond me.

If you have a 2-line poem (3, with title), please share it in the comments.