Cold Death Brings New Life
The leaves turn orange
then red
then dead.
The bark hardens on the tree
and is chopped to bits
and is set on fire.
The ashes are thrown out,
like trash.
Something familiar that you once knew
now gone,
burnt,
Do the other trees fear death?
Like we do?
After all the ashes are spread,
time passes,
then you remember,
look in its place.
A flower.
Fiery red,
Blooming.
And suddenly you are at peace,
remembering all that you see.
Warm, you lay down next to the flower,
and give it your nutrients.