The alder tree, its limbs broken in the ice storm, resprouts soft green stems from the smooth empty middle of its trunk;
Takes on a new shape in order to begin again, continue capturing light to fuel life.I have watched it from my upstairs window all these years.
Now I too shed my old hopes and the idealism of my younger days as I adapt and grow where the light continues to break through and touch me
But I am not a tree- rooted here for all of my life, sending my pollen and seeds as far as the wind can carry them.
I have a body that travels wherever I point it, and the world is vast. For an animal, adaptation is also our behavior- we sense danger and we move on.
I am a mother and so I find a safer patch of earth for my young.
But first I give my thanks to this place for sheltering my family and my life.
I give thanks to the earth where I have planted, and have found what other beings share this space.
The alder tree outside this window will continue here, enriching the soil and giving more than it has taken.
When my body makes its final return to the earth, may I too have given more to this world than I have taken.
