When Alzheimer awakens in the morning,
trees blow west like ships from easterly flow.
The inward thought confident of impression.
When Dementia peers out behind glass pane at noon,
the trees sway northward like hunched working men.
No doubt of this landscaped image.
When Schizophrenic watches at four in the afternoon,
the trees bend south from north winds cruel intent.
Who would question this amusement of mental creation?
When Phobia witnesses the sun’s descending rays
it exclaims -- why now trees twist east toward sunrise!
And puzzle at your doubt of such truth.
Then someone is sure to say, poor things.
The trees have blown like twisters in their addled minds.
Is a confident diagnosis made?