Why have you stayed, when time has sapped my youth
And bent my branches like an aging oak?
Your sunshine smile metes life, and still does soothe
To melt dread winter’s cold like warm chinooks.
Relentless time has weather-worn my bark,
And on my crown, the faded leaves hang shorn;
I stand a craven relic, visage stark,
Whose frame has braved the might of every storm.
What shelter yet can crooked limbs provide,
Now barren, grey, and stiff—bereft of cheer?
What promise do these fruitless hands betide
When heavens’ thunder stroke looms ever near?
You grant new life, much like the breath of spring;
For when you smile, loves’ sap fair flows again.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.