Speaking From The Brambles.

Speaking from the brambles,
behind my wall of thorns,
I give my sage and pine advice,
through branches I can't be heard.

I've hollowed out my nest,
my view is veined with leaves,
The trees are old and hoary,
they tilt and they shed.

The sky leaks when it rains,
Winter is coming.
Snow falls around me, and
melts on my head.

Speaking from the brambles,
behind my wall of thorns,
I give my sage (and pine) advice,
knowing I can't be heard.



OR: Would this be better? Or just different?



Speaking from the brambles,
"I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

Behind my wall of thorns,
"Whoops!"

I give my sage (and pine) advice,
"That's gotta hurt!"

Through the branches, I can't be heard,
"Told you so!"

I've hollowed out a nest,
"You can visit but don't stay!"

My view is veined with leaves,
"Watch out for that hole!"

The sky leaks, when it rains,
"Winter is coming!"

The trees are old and hoary,
"Seen it all before!"

They tilt and shed,
"Ouch!"

I hide behind my wall of thorns,
and feather my nest.
And give my best advice.