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 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.