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written to celebrate equally the people who heard the breeze in the trees hummin' weird melodies and they called it 'The Birth of the Blues'.

The trees sang then

The trees sing now

Winds: east, west,

North and south.

The choir arrives

In threes and fives

To the Poets' Church

That has eight sides

The bass oak groans

Even lower

Than the sycamore,

Elm and birch

The baritones

The worlds their church

The bass oak groans;

"Dark Willow".

High lonesome pine

The tenor fine

The sopranos trill

Blossomed cherry

Contralto berry

Rose and thorn

Will sing until

Tunes have been born

The sopranos trill

The bass oak groans;

"Dark Willow".