Who knows bellows better than the wind
hung from a tree from where the roots run
of which no one knows from what seed it comes
like a gallows with long neck boughs
hanging life in effigy suffering not smiles
crying for the willows alone in the shadows
kissed by the macabre of a clandestine moon
longing to share whispers...  
"Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop"