The child stood on the burning tree

The child stood on the burning tree,

Laughing with many a tears.

- Mother—you can’t say it’s true what you see

‘Cause your child

his laughs only hears.

All dressed in furs, against the frozen fire—

He stood

with a paperback plane in his hand.

And your child’s only wish and desire

Are to fetch the pure safeness of flight

and therefore suspend

his dreaming loads onto the sky—

I know you stay there gasping, mother

And puffed I stay—but I

Figure out burning trees, and don’t bother—

Just by the Book, such burning bush is (in fact) icy cold

And it was meant for your child.

And I know the One Who traded

and Who sold

This kind of burning bushes

into the wild—