Tattered, torn and ragged shawls of yellow, rust and orange Now, carelessly drape the stately dignified tree. An ancient tree, once green and now quite old throughout its many seasons. Yet with its' own peculiar wisdom . . .born hard. Vulnerable, finally, to Winter's wrath Still yearning, tho, for one more Spring For one last chance to reach the Sky. Like me, Made frightened by the winds of Time. |