The Tree Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

Roots exposed by the rushing waters
Bent by the restless wind
Leaves picked clean by hungry cattle
It stands, withered and forlorn, devoid of mantle.

No other nearby to give it protection
No sharing shade from the boiling sun
No grass to shield its roots
It's bowed, diminished, mute.

Once roots grew deep in rich loam
Thriving on moisture from the nearby stream
Branches with leaves rustling in the wind
Lusting for rays of sun without end.

Nature challenges,
Strong survive.
There among the few leaves remaining
Buds, renewing.

Soon the tree will cast off
Its fruit, acorns
A promise that life will be
Another tree.

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