The kindom of heaven is like a maple tree.
Ubiquitous. The commonest in the city. 
Ancient one, whose roots buckle 
the groomed and mended streets.
Delicate springtime bells, 
a green sweetness. Taste and see. 
A scattersong of winged seeds 
at the mercy of the wind.
Stark and storming: no shelter here.
Which of these did you have in mind
when I said: a maple tree?

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