I Am Not A Tree

With summer’s demise,

Veneer from green to red to black, no longer mine.

Leaves leave and fall with fall

From my arms to the ground in heaps,

Then raked away

By winter the garment bandit.

Shriveled and shivering,

No coat to keep me cozy.

The night’s curtain

Blanketing the sky,

Black boughs bare until spring warmth

Bears new garb.

Once again

No longer naked

And the thief returns,

Apologetic,

Adorning me with song birds

Amongst budding flower.

It’s quite alright,

I forgive you,

And I stretch my arms upward

Into the warm sun.