Art Practice - 2025, 43

Bumped

A very sharp jostle shakes the crown of the tree,
loose twigs and falling leaves begin covering me,
I curiously pique around the wide, steadfast trunk,
to find out what just made the worrying *thunk*.
Behind me I find many loose clumps of straw,
a worn length or rope both ends frayed and raw,
A haybail has rolled here from atop the hill,
and bumped this tree, but now it stands still.