I am a tree
with roots like earthworms
sliding into the ground below
and desperately holding on.

I am a tree
with barren branches
shivering in the winter wind;
leaves dropping like confidence.

I am a tree
with rough bark easily torn off
to expose soft flesh,
vulnerable to sharply pecking birds.

I am a tree,
and my roots hold stronger
as you saw into my side.

I am a tree,
and my branches creak,
making harsh wind into music.

I am a tree,
and I feed birds and bugs
through my own broken bark.

I am a tree,
and I may lose a few leaves in the winter,
but they always grow back in the spring.