In the Shade of the Setting Son

Not at once, but gradually at my feet random leaves, brown and brittle carpenters diligently march in leaving my bark somewhat non-committal Furtively, up grow the undesirables the weedy weeds and the pesty pests erstwhile friends in the summer sun the heavenly snag inviting inquests Wounded tree under forest affliction how to water; too little, too much scarred by the bear claw and lightning strike yielding to the woodpecker, chickadee and bluebird clutch Where only warmth now lingers, the flame once fired stands the smiling woodsman cleaning his plate glistening against my trunk in the wink of a rising sun a sharpened ax waits and waits