We had a maple go down nearby recently
while it was winter bare.
The parts of it left lying on the road
began leafing out many days after it fell.
There was something hauntingly sad
and remarkable about witnessing this.
How valiant the reach for light
and for life is in all of us.
This poem reminded me of the maple.
It inspires me to keep reaching for life
and for light regardless of bleak circumstances.
It also reminds me there is life after death...
cuttings could have been taken and grown into new trees.
Perhaps tiny saplings are already growing in spots
where seeds met the soil underneath?
PS: I so want to add punctuation to this piece.
I'm not doing so in respect to the poet.
