I am

I'm the tree that chases the sun

In a crowded density, just below the canopy

With the driving force to stay alive; survive.

Stretch myself taut, bark cracking

Itching away - rid me of my husk

Remove me from my nylon shell

Branches mimicking the strand of chance

Like cracked porcelaine skies, clouds tracing edges

Adolescent budding leaves,

Know not the cruelty of the world, on its day of birth

Spool of Spiders' string

Spell out and pronounce the poised trap

Winter, permit me the privelege

Of counting rings and house

What spring brings

Know that my wiseness cannot be measured

In the expanse of my branches -

Even if I cannot produce

To the standards of artificial molasses


"Take my convictions; I'd rather burn naked."