So

Your

Growth

Is scorched.

By days

Of drought and

Inches gained back in Spring.

Your age is

Marked by how you’ve changed.

In rings of growth and bark now singed.

The past remains

Though only         where it was.

And one day           roots will rot

Or storms will blow        to prune old limbs.

Another year of growth, and days now gone will wither,

Dry up,

Burn up,

And die.