Tree

Little twig that I was, so new,
so green; my roots not even
dug deep yet, just letting toes
sink into cool fresh Earth.

Spring lay high upon the hillside,
waiting for me to sprout, shoots
bearing flowers bearing fruit; the
Summer sun was safe and warm.

What rains that came were brief and soft,
dewdrops against willowy skin, making
bright prisms against verdant leaves.

There were times of Fall, when change came
quickly, turning colors with the touch of chill;
dire tidings foretold the bitter edge of Winter.
~
I stand naked now beneath the snowy blanket,
memories sharp and clear now keep me company;
the knowledge of aged wood burns hot until the
days of smoke and ash, scattered for the worms.



Read more: http://www.myspace.com/ninelivesandmore/blog#ixzz0vvK9JrrP