I did not hang these men from my branches,
And yet my arms they easily sway
On dark days filled with dogs like this
Who know not “sit” nor “stay”.
I did not hang these men from my branches,
And yet my people gawk and gaze,
Thankful for the roots that map
New trails their sons will blaze.
I did not hang these men from my branches,
And yet I feel their weight;
Their heavy hearts and heavy eyes
Dangling, like fruit, they wait.
I did not hang these men from my branches,
And yet I hold the noose,
Which snow and rain more tightly tie
Through cries of, “Cut it loose!”