The tree stands alone in a yard,
All while standing among squirrels,
rosebushes,
and irises.

One by one it loses them.
Its leaves, reflecting the sunset
to the yard.
But one by one it loses them,
Melting into shriveled marcescence.

Whipped, slapped, beaten.
Shivering,
The wind and snow ambushed the tree
In its vulnerability.
Whipped, slapped, beaten,
The tree fell asleep.

An explosion of scents and colors.
Awaking in the sunlight, the tree noticed it was
now lush;
Bright green and sparkling pink.
“Alas, I have survived another season! No longer
alone;
Some humans and machines, coming to greet me!”
An explosion of dust and fibers decorated the
air.

Then darkness.