To Kevin

Written by: Ashley Poort

The same tree blossoms that stands bare.
The same silhouette against sunrise and sunset.
The same tree stands in May that stands in December,
Once delicate with buds, and then with frost, bitter.
Spring to autumn, then to winter.
Fruit will ripen, bark will splinter.
Wisdom of nature, not of men,
We learn, we lose, not comprehend.