The farmer in me argues
With the doctor in me
This tree will have to go
It's already prone on the ground
Its roots torn up by the storm
Struck down in full bloom
Alive with bees and finches
The farmer wants to let it rest there
Until it loses all its leaves
The doctor orders surgery
The removal of the heart
Which he says will go on beating
In the space it leaves behind
Where you can sit and weep
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