BARK

 

Their whole life

Is etched into the bark

The trunks wear their story

To be read with the eye

Or touched like brail

Cracked and weathered

Like the face of an old mariner

Showing what was

And what is still

It protects like a pachyderm’s hide

It’s the first line of defense

Against any aggressor

Then when the tree falls

It’s the last to die