Nature's Mortality

I hold her tightly and securely,
As I swing from her bows into the air.
Cushioned by her soft mattress of needles
Carefully laid out over the years.
Her sweet-scented perfume lingers in the air.
Maple sap falls on her dress from her tears.

I used to climb her limbs to her head in my younger years,
But now I prefer to rest protected under the shadows of her dress.
She shows her love by giving a part of her being to me,
She built my house and keeps me warm throughout winter.
I return her love by feeding her what she needs to grow,
Her roots are from fertile ancestry and she survives with an
Ancient drink and frolics in the warmth as only life can.

Hopefully she will live longer than I do.

by A. H., Dublin, NH