With each winter
comes a shedding
a sort of forgetting
of the year’s growth, labored through love.
The pained drop of each
shriveled leaf from this grand tree—
a quiet, steady loss of
a once effortless strength—
piles on the ground, baring a
collection of affections that have since gone dry.
It stands, determined,
with its exposed branches stark
against the pale, chilled sky,
for absolution amidst the rain.
All the while,
the sun’s warmth
and far below the cool ground,
the stubborn roots of this grand tree
to a once-rich soil.
The sun’s steadfast light
and the baptisms wrought by the ugliest storms
serve to breathe life into this weakened force
serve to turn such profound loss into strength, and
serve to push those fibrous roots
deeper into the earth.
All the while, this grand tree
until the cold, bitter storms have passed.
And one by one,
delicate green leaves are reborn and
perfumed blossoms burst forth from its
once lonely branches,
until the entire tree
is once again enveloped in
its former proud magnificence:
offering shelter, solace, peaceful silence,
and an unending love.
This is the magic of