My self, my tree

You developed from a seed

Blown from a larger tree;

Your roots reached deep in the earth

Searching, searching for nourishment.

Your branches spread, extended

Reaching out for light.

Now in each season, my self, my tree

You change, you are transformed,

Yet you are the same.

In the spring warm color touches the tips of your branches,

Tiny pale green leaves appear

And fragrant flowers bud,

Waiting, waiting to bear fruit;

And later when comes September’s chill

With each day’s setting sun,

Your scarlet and yellow leaves

Fall to the ground.

Your trunk grows a wider ring,

As color fades, your branches thin.

Yet a few brown leaves still cling

When winter glazes each frozen twig.

What will happen now, my tree ?

Will some sudden storm cause you to break ?

Or will a lightning bolt

Split you to the core ?

Will you then crumble

Or be cut down ?

Or will you stand straight and tall

Still planted in the ground ?

Or lying there upon the earth

Give nourishment, and rebirth ?