Prewrite+4

I am the cottonwood tree old and tall spreading my seeds before the fall

The wind carries them over the maple whose whirligig seeds fall where they're able

And past the girl in the green lawn chair staring up at the sky blue and fair

My roots go deep for Winter's sleep But their tangled clot couldn't stop the rot

I was the cottonwood tree Dead and gone my shadow no longer greets the dawn

My brown disease stopped winter's freeze and in my place nary a trace