One of Many

 

I detest that cold biting wind

which chills me through bark into each ring

Those gusts that denude me of any propriety

as autumnal scales are blown away

to fall upon a carpet of other discarded leaves

A time to acknowledge my stark reality

to be resilient in the face of snow and hail

Along with others we give of ourselves

in uniformed fidelity to the seasons

Shorter days and longer nights

obscure our vision and senses

Concealed nests in our branches

are now exposed and vacant

We nod to one another and flex our twig like wings

the appearance of sleep is a fallacy

The season of perseverance is upon us

as the arboreal community laments the passing of summer

Not until Spring will we sprout forth

new saplings to join our happy throng

To become again a verdant majesty

in a forest of perennial mystery