The inside and the outside of a man,
the firm bark and the soaked rings –
both are the man himself.
The Future falls through
like buckshot flung
through a hollow solenoid trunk,
fast collapsing to the base.
But the bark does not quiver,
though if you listen carefully
you will hear
faintly
a thud, dull and morose
the death of the tree,
one day to be explored by children
who creep into the cavity
and hide their army men there.
Joe Spring writes 