The Tree and I

The tree stands still;

unmoved by the world around it. 

Roots are buried in the soil

in the fields that surround it. 

I pause to look,

the only visitor most days. 

It's forever secluded,

unchanged in the August haze.

I raise my arms.

My fingers transform into leaves. 

The tree reaches for the sky. 

A troubled soul, the tree grieves. 

The tree is wise. 

It understands that time is short

to feel the warm summer sun

in this life it can't abort. 

I watch it cry.

Leafy tears now drop to the earth.

The world is growing colder. 

Of growth, there is a dearth. 

I understand. 

I feel the tree's pain and sorrow.

For the tree and I are one, 

yesterday and tomorrow.

The tree is here.

And here is where you'll find us,
our souls' personal exchange.
The tree and I stand tall,
unmoved yet somehow changed.