The Cycle to Come

A tree motionless in winter, biding one’s time for a season of warmth.

A tree bearing still, stale branches, standing, shivering,

enduring this everlasting cold. Snow powders the paper thin twigs, 

wrapping the tree like a Christmas present,

shut off from its blooming aspirations.

Blossoms overcome the desperate frost,

leaves emerge as the tree is met with longed-for ease, flowers maturing.

The warm breeze flowing through the flower petals, 

blooming what it once aspired to.

Unbearable heat overwhelms, overflowing flowers and leaves.  

Rich, bold, chocolate brown bark opening up to its peak.

A tree that was ignored and taunted, paper thin branches beared, 

no longer who it was before, now discarding its past despair.

Warm colours decorate the branches 

stretching as far as the sky, autumn breeze wafts throughout,

curling leaves amongst gnarled roots

nearing the final season, surreal flowers, peace and blooming.

The season of warmth now a distant memory,

returning snow powders the paper thin branches, the present rewrapped,

as mother nature is caught in frost, blooming aspirations wait for their return.