The aged maple rests silently amongst bare autumn leaves.

A nexus of connections,

A pillar of perpetual strength.

Well armed for winter's approach.

Just weeks ago, this tree was home to many,

Climbing children, clinging moss, countless creatures.

The warm morning breeze welcomed new visitors,

While bushy tails prepared for their winter slumber.

Deep-rooted, forthright, sturdy,

The fortress is a safe house for many. 

Like the silk cocoon of a caterpillar,

Protecting the fragility of its core.  

At the onset of winter’s awakening,

Its branches appear delicate, like drooping willows. 

They sway like palm trees in a hurricane,

Lost, cracked, withered, but not broken. 

The trunk stands unscathed. 

Roots tightly gripped around earth's core. 

Gusts of icy storms thrash the undaunted branches. 

Yet, the maple endures the harsh wrath of the North Wind. 

The journey is bittersweet.

Stemming from a canopy of nature’s children, 

Down to a bare outer bark. 

Ultimately returning to the seedlings of life.