Choice Trees

In primal garden 

the tree 

stands laden, 

splendor 

consummate, 

grace-rooted, 

owned by him 

who warns, 

don’t eat or 

sure you’ll die.

Yet you,

 arrogant Adam 

in us all, 

grasp prerogatives

never due.

Thrust out, 

bedeviled, 

you stumble toward 

that other tree, 

cross-beamed 

for life.