Full Circle

Withered, blackened, scarred.
The tree has died; it's sad spirit still lingering.
I visit it daily, it is an old friend of mine.
We used to share stories....
I used to fall asleep in it's boughs.

Now, I bring offerings, funereal flowers,
and seeds;
placing them amongst it's tangled roots,
wiping tears away.
Nothing will ever be the same, I think.
Everything dies and leaves eventually.
The last leaves fall, and I twine them into my hair.

Spring comes, and I am still here, saddened.
The earth is quickening, under skies of rain;
the surrounding trees are rioting greens,
but my friend remains silent and gray.
I lie beneath it, looking to the skies between its branches.
(I used to see a smiling face up there, it too, has gone.)

Abandoned. Forsaken. Lost.

Then the birds come winging in.
I lay quietly, watching...curious.
Brightly colored, they carry bits
of twine and grass and trash in their beaks.
Settling onto a mangled branch, they begin their task.
Working together, they wind and stitch together a nest,
chirruping madly.
I sit up, and watch in astonishment as two squirrels
bundle past me, chittering to one another through
mouths stuffed with nuts.
They disappear into a knothole, and I laugh.

Twilight comes, and the birds settle in, sleepily singing.
I realise they are singing an ode to the tree.
The squirrels bound out of the knothole, and curl up together-
high up in the top-most branches.

Days go by, and I am always there....
hugging the trunk, amazed by the sudden activity.
Insects trundle busily up and down on unknown errands.
The eggs have hatched, and I hear the cheeping of little ones.
Summer has crept into the land, slowly; a caress.

I bed down again, and notice
the soft, slow growth of seeds.
Tendrils have begun to wind about the trunk,
young roots embrace the old.

By summer's end, my friend is glowing with new life.
The seeds I have planted have grown into a tree,
strong branches supporting the older, fragile ones;
a green cloak of leaves shimmering, concealing the scars.

I hear a sigh, and I look up into the canopy.
I see two faces there, one familiar, and one I've never before seen.
They both beam down at me. I smile back, full of joy.
Perhaps nothing will ever be exactly the same, I think;
but everything makes it's way back (full circle) eventually.


Renewed. Vibrant. Alive.