The Tree III

I am the most
recent flowering
on our tree - my
leaves are green
and heady, curling
in the sun - down
far down are the
old brown roots, tough,
gnarled, curling in
silence deep in loam
in the dark where
life is born - I am
of them, their sap
rises and
steams in me in my
brief green waving
at the top of
this old tree - but I am
sustained by them,
far below, those
ancient roots darkling
and quietly
sucking life from
soil, bold, brave,
to give me light so
far above
waving in the air.

I am the most
recent one here,
but the tree around is
old and
it is dying - perhaps
my bright leaves
will be the last to
thrust towards the
skies, and the
roots will still themselves,
not eat, and all the
sap will slow, lose
heat, and, sluggish,
the tree
will go to sleep.

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