Growth Curve

Sap rises, pushing out the seed
that falls so it may grow.
My roots stretch far and feel
your timid tendrils in the dark.
No escape from my roots.
Curl round them as you may.
You cannot overpower them.
They channel and check you
as you push up for the light.

I know your slender beauty
for once it was my own
before bark crusted and constrained
and long years condemned.
Taller than you am I but not for long
as time passes for trees.
You too will grow
toward the clouds you cannot see
yet still are there to rain on you.

Great may you be
in all the spinning seasons;
in Summer’s green cloak
and bare in Winter’s blast
as leaves fall and return
fall and return.
Push roots out deep and long
and stand above my shadow
before the axe man comes