Every season
I watch the bark
peel away from the tree,
Finishing the cycle of
death then life,
Another ring added
to the tally of seasons,
As death works hard
readying for fresh sap,
to move upwards,
Branches taking new directions,
Leaves raise their green fingers,
Reaching toward heaven,
Nature praising life’s open sky,
The tree grows, Because,
The bark is willing to let go.
