Trees
within a shell as weary and wizened as yours
as streaked with the rain's tears
split by the coming and going of
summer and winter
gouged by the ravages of insect
and illness
my heartwood expands
each ring a story
each layer a weight
that roots me more firmly
to this spot
no longer bearing fruit
but rather tidings
admonishments
which is what old things do
I stand much as you
biding what time is left me
fade into a landscape
of new things new dreams
and whatever else
a new generation reaches for
that has nothing to do with stars
or sunlight or moons
etched with the shadows of branches
and leaves that burst forth in spring
singing a green song
a song without words
that I play
over and over again
even in sleep
