THE MOTHER TREE

On a warm spring day

Blossoms from a sakura

A small paper crane

A delicate thing

Fresh eyes to the world

But her body meek

Brothers and sisters

Bloom too from their mother tree

And soon leave the nest

Her fine, fragile wings

Stretch out with all of their might

Lifting her, up, up

She joins the others

For the long journey ahead

Fearful but eager

Their agile figures

Glide like paper planes in flight

As sharp as arrows

Not far behind

Her tiny frame shadows

Working ‘til it aches

Darkness approaches

Rumbling a prophecy

But only to her

And soon she is lost

Her brother and sister cranes

Nowhere to be seen

Sending her down, down

The shower does not relent

Against her torn wings

A paper boat floats

Above the calm sea at dusk

Where she lands at last

Wings wet and beak bent

She lies to watch the sun set

Finding her new home

A new mother tree

She finds comfort in the soil

Where she lay to rest

Her fragile body

Marries with the Earth, her soul

Spreading through its roots

From which a frog hops

A river flows, children play

And mother tree grows

So the next spring comes, and

Blossoms from a sakura

A small paper crane

fin.