The Song of My Trees

I want to be the fire in the trees,
the peace in the flame,
when the Winter shrieking starts up.
I want to stand tall and aloof,
in a huddle,
like those trees.
For every time the sun says it can’t,
I’ll let another golden leaf go
and another
and feel my roots sinking deeper.
All my blazing color will
leave a dancing trail
on the wind.
The coolness of sky will fill
my arms then
or falling snow or stars.
I can hold that.
I can slowly turn with the Earth
and be an illusion of stillness,
when all I do is grow
and change over and over.