I, Silky Oak

I sway in a bitter breeze

under the crisp sunrays

As the joyful choir of bees

Concludes their melodic humming.

The pebbles scattered across the stream

are chill to the touch and clear the brain

As problems wash astray in the frigid creek

and mundane life seems so far away.

Leave me in these bleak beams of light

Let me die as all things do

My hair shrivels up and floats in flight

But worry not; I’ll come back for you.

For streaks of gold will spring to life

adorning my reviving corpse;

Stretching, swirling veins of fire

that burn away the thorns.

The choir of galahs will resume

as I sway in an awakening breeze.

And the ardent sun rays melt my tomb;

And I soak up the light, waiting for the cycle to resume.