I long to be like

The imperfect - perfect strokes of nature

Old tree bark

Slowly layered

With time

And subtle color

Such honest ripples

Of earthy coverage

I look at my skin

Soft and damageable

Pale supple

So delicate

My seedling frame

Seems to sway with

Any slighted wave

Of air

I crave sun and rain

Needing to put down my roots

They are slowly moving down

Earth is comforting

While birds court and nest in my

Newly budded branches

~

georgia sakura