A Lovely Wither
As my last leaves bid farewell
and crumble under winter's foot,
or await the soggy slosh of spring ~
I shiver, and raise my naked limbs
up toward where young boys climbed
toward Heaven...
So long ago, that now, they wither too.
The sweet sap of my youth
no longer runs,
The osmosis of my roots,
no longer suckles Mother Earth.
An arborist's blades, like the Reaper's scythe
will sever life's ties,
but, weep not at my ends for
now I climb to Heaven's breast
and a sapling grows from whence I came...
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