Her final bough
In this closing season she is laid bare.
Her imperfections and scars on display,
This is no time for modesty.
Gone are the green buds of her youth.
The seeds she bore gained purchase in distant soil.
Her autumn glory has faded and fled
As her lines cut a stark contrast against the winter sky.
Don’t be quick to dismiss her just yet.
Look again and see.... there is a beauty in her bones.
Is that a nest snuggled in her branches?
Can you find the treasures hidden in her secret places?
Is there sanctuary in her shadow?
Her roots are anchored deep; her trunk still upright.
When I lean on her, I am supported.