Bury me, your seed,
in the fertile ground of familial property
so that I may be tended to with love and care.

Properly,
make sure I drink the waters of the earth,
catch the effervescent rays of life,
and bask in the waxing moon.

Make sure my roots are deep - instilled within your soil, -
running, playing with the clay.

Watch as I begin to sprout,
to grow,
to chase
the pale blues of eternity.

With my limbs I will begin to reach new territory.

With my leaves I will embrace the wind,
dancing tenderly now,
waning,
wilting,
spreading with fertility.  

I will transform as seasons turn,
and you will comment on my beauty -
my shades of green change into oranges,
yellows,
deep and provocative reds.

Beauty,
however,
does not last.

For soon you will witness the shedding of my coat,
laying my bones bare before creation.

And in time, you too will pass,
knowing that my cycles continue on for generations,
sharing proof of your generosity.

I will offer shade when they are warm and tired;
they may rest beneath my open arms.

I will offer fruits so succulent;
saving all from hunger's many harms.

And when my bark begins to peel,
my colors fading,
the span of my life in question,
and it seems that I have nothing left to give -
remember me in pictures taken,
in the live that I have nurtured,
in my kin now vast around me from the seeds which I have sewed.

In my final winter cut me down;
use all that I may give.

Let me warm this home once more.
Let me light the darkness inside.
Hear the crackle of my voice.

But,
most importantly,
leave a stump for all to rest once more.

Take solace in my rings.