Perched up for what could have been a century              
A living statue, innate onlooker, weathered survivor
Now dying and giving in to the gentle pull of Earth
Bathing in broken sunlight, we ate dinner,
looking on through the kitchen window
Watched you transform and grow downward
Watched you lose limb, then limb again
Looking out the dinning room window every night
In the wind, we watched it sway as it hung from you
Like an aging man, a creased face and graying hair
I stood at dusk, in the pasture
I admired your bending stance against the backdrop of a descending sun
It too shall have the same fate
And so shall I