twisted bark and carved arches
life has etched it's mark on me
my roots run deep and so do my cracks
I'm standing tall, but scared I'll fall.
my shadow is a giver, my soul-a taker
I reap from the ground
only to have my fruit ripped from me.
I reach for the heights,
and must contend with nature's laws,
time, season and gravity.
strangers lean on me,
they stop to catch their breath
then move on as they please...
occasionally they'll nest for a while
if the weather so conspires
till autumn comes like clockwork
sending them off in pursuit of more
just as my leaves start to fall
leaving me out there, a lonely bared soul.
i see the smoke from fires
fueled by my brothers
and wonder what fate awaits me,
will i burn or will i rot,
will be carved into something fancy
be set on a pedestal to be shown off
polished and cherished
for the rest of my life
or maybe I'll always be simply a tree
rooted to a spot but altogether free
to embrace my constant friend -the wind,
and longingly wait for spring.