Loving Tree
Snow glistens on my branches of grey.
Sunlight radiates warmth into my pulsing veins.
Early winter days promise me colder is coming.
When you look out your frosty window pane at me
I see your eyes in appreciation speaking with love.
Thank you, you think, for being my constant guardian.
Oh dear loving tree how special you are to me.
Every blade of green grass around me turned brown.
All in perfect order with the rhythms of the seasons four.
Aged and young golfers, motorized golf carts, bagged golf clubs,
Bouncing, rolling, white dimpled golf balls
Ride on the wind of the cursing and sometimes jubilant golfers.
I love the wintry freeze halting the golfers play.
Please don’t lose your faith in God, which you see so much in me.
I remind you with each passing day that life is ever-changing.
Impermanent in it’s nature, as you watch the evidence.
My leaves turn colors of red, yellow, orange.
Falling gently to the earth, eventually crumpling with age.
Decaying back to the soil that will renew me in Spring.
Vibrant with fresh life after rejuvenating hibernation.
You are there again at the window
pondering your life, through mine.
I am your loving tree.
Anya Sophia Mann. December 2018.