Forester

There is more of summer
than winter. I open my eyes to see the sun
in all its wondrous brightness
lighting up the trees
that I wander beneath, most days,
to find a place to sit and think while leaves
flutter green against the sky.
My bare back on bark,
rough with stories no one’s told,
my mind singing outwards
with every branch with every bud
finding beauty from the ashes
like joy grows out of love.