And Still, Still She Grows

She is made of earth, dark roots running deep. Her age sits around her middle as rings grow with a haunting song all their own. She's been cut, pruned when her branches grew too wild reaching for the light and still, still she grows.

She gives hope in spring when love's verse flows, bright green shoots of passionate prose brings glow to all.

She gives shade in summer's heat while lush and full her lovers meet under cover in shadows dance when sunlight dappled dreams take flight.

She flexes her spine and reaches still though light grows dim through thinning veil. She’s seen shedding her colors bright and flaming as her couple grows colder turning collar from her dying gaze and still, still she grows.

She stands barren blanketed in white, turned within from dying light. She stands tall and dark, stark against a world turned cold. Her lovers gone in search of warmth, she stands roots firm in coming storm. She waits til spring comes back around, bringing lovers out with shoots toward home. And still, still she grows.

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