“poem about trees with undertones of dick but also like an important lesson”

(or: "poetry prompt from drunk gay friend")

One morning in the wood came he

A twinkle in his eye

As twee a sprig as sprigs can be

His mouth was gaping wide.

In the great Sequoia forest

Entranced he was by size

“Daddy, it’s so big,” he said

It shoots up to the sky!”

As eager boys are wont to do

He begged his Dad for seeds

But his backyard’s not big enough

For a Sequoia tree.

Upon a stump he sat and cried

Unripe to bear the load

’Til “son, we’ll plant a smaller tree,

And you can watch it grow.”

Well twee a sprig (as sprigs can be)

He spun a roundabout

Inside he felt a burst of glee

And gaily pranced about.

Like any friend of Dorothy sure

No place like home he knew

Though ruby slippers had he not

A red maple would do.

Into the dirt they put in work

Digging in with a hoe

Tossing their seeds inside the pit

And covering the hole.

Sapling young to sturdy and stiff

The maple did yet rise

A hammock hung between its boughs

It was the perfect size.

But the maple heard the legends

Of trunks so thick and long

Ne’er a wanderer on the earth

to fit one in their arms.

Standing strong with reddened tips

Erect against the breeze

Inside still felt itself cut down—

The stumpiest of trees.

Tapped for sap to feed the boy

All the syrup it can give

It still felt drained and impotent

Naught but a hollow twig.

One morning in the yard came he

With friends he brought to swing

And climb and hide and play and jest

Hung on the maple’s wings.

“If I could be contented so…”

The tree mused to itself

“For if I had a larger trunk

Perhaps I’d be more help.”

Beneath its bark the biting thoughts

The boy would woe to see

The maple was his pride and joy

Arisen from his seed.

(Plus his backyard would never fit

A big Sequoia tree.)