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...