Life Through Death
While strolling through the woods one day, as I walked on that unmade bed, I came upon an unknown way, and took the path to where it led.
A Silver Birch to my dismay-
lay prone upon that forest floor, crushing the Red cap on its fall, This symbol of what was before, a once proud tree that stood so tall Where Woodpeckers will peck no more.
Its silver bark both dull and grey, leaves of green no longer there, A splendid sight within its day, no more red buds this tree will bear, Its slender trunk wasting away.
Once stock of food for woodland bird, a winter place where Siskins fed, Beauteous songs no longer heard, their source of life was lying dead, To forest floor now well anchored.
Yet even in this tree's death throe, it feeds the ground - drenches the earth, Beneath its corpse new things will grow producing life - creating birth, Nature's own Michelangelo.