Sugar Maple

by February 1, 2015 0 comments

Dead things
are merely things
ready to be new
Sugar Maple, winter is becoming to you
your bare bones reaching past chilled skies
tall and immovable
Changeable statue of the earth,
you throw your leaves off like they are timeless
And they are!
cracked yellow and browning
decaying, integrating into January mud
becoming, once again, the wholesome sheath
you spread your rooted legs beneath
Sugar Maple, you are so close to death
and yet you breathe
fearless in the frost
you wither, naked
yet you are crystalline in the crusting of snow
A halo of sunlight and wisdom surrounds you
an untouchable glory
You are a god among bush and beast
Ancient and undisturbed by the inevitable
decease and recreation of things –
All things that pass

editors note:

A mad mandala; bitter and sweet! – mh

Leave a Reply