odd poetry written on a cold afternoon

Anatomy of a Tree

I have lived
50 times over
I am old and young and free
I take what I need
And I give it back
For I am more
Than eye can see
I dance to the wind
I dance to the rain
I bow to the stars
And snow
I wreath myself in color that
Is meaningless to me
By the day-hour
I rise
I spread my ‘wings’
And
Try to fly
I kiss the earth
I kiss the sun
And then I fall
And then I die.

ML
11/27/05