Past Maturity

My trunk has greyed,
my body bent,
my branches twisted,
from years of beating sun.

My heart has died,
too many years of growth
have sapped my spirit;
yet I still appraise my land.

No leaves or foliage grow,
no blossom blooms in spring,
no fruit, no seeds
that fall and feed.

I’m tired and broken down,
the wind blows yet
I feel no movement
In my soul.

Large wrinkled cracks
line my weathered face.
My bark long gone and
my trunk well polished.

One time magnificent,
the tallest tree around,
the greenest leaves,
fruit most sought.

Time, wind and sun,
have aged my body,
my many, many rings
add far too many years.

Pretty birds I used to love
no longer perch and feed
the butterflies, the bees
that pollinate long gone.

Past beauty that I am
forgotten, and ignored,
soon I will fall, break,
decay, mould and rot.

My rotting remains  
soon composted to
manure, I can now return
as goodness to the earth.

New growth now born,
new trees, grasses, plants,
blossoms that give food
to feed our hungry land.

The cycle of life means
I will grow again to
give life, sustain growth,
help maintain our world.

So life continues.

2  July 2007