That trees seem souled, yes. Less 
plain is what a tree nymph 
would want with a woman’s skin. 

The hunter’s camouflage, 
the soldier’s thatch cape, the bark 
Daphne grew to thwart  
a god’s caress—say what you will  

about their purposes—  
for metamorphosis to run  
in that direction at least  
makes perfect sense. 

But why an oak, its mind  
an owl, its larynx a wren, would want  
to be like us—there, I’m afraid,  
the Greeks were as vain as their gods.