They breathed for endless interim, an elm trunk
No oxygen in a panting soul, only paralysis of the tongue.
Bottomless depths plunged by nails cut to the quick
Beneath those elm roots, that elm tree.
Only flashes of an endless summer rendered fall
No carbon under their footprints, only kings without a crown.
Relentless pursuer crashing through the darkened night
Shimmering dust wrested from the road
And sent on ahead to tell someone else
Who has never heard of resting, of elm trees.