only in the winter
as I’m stripped of my red
cloak? When the yellows have broken
and scrambled like egg yolk? When I can’t blanket
you in shade. And my bark is sharp as blades?

Do you see me
only in early spring
when my buds are tightly closed
like a fist swinging in the air
and breaking someone’s nose?

Do you see me
only in late autumn
when my colors are bleeding out
and fallen to the bottom. And my nut plunks
someone’s head so loud it shakes the dead?

Do you see me
only in the summer
so green and much
younger? A haven for the thunder. When you
laid under me and fell asleep at my feet?