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 ?