Metamorphosis

Once she dreamed of Baucis and Philemon:
the intertwined branches of two lovers immortalized as
the oak and the linden, in vibrant embrace
shimmering golden leaves brimming with life in the wake of an angry destruction.

Time ticked and tocked its way through xylem and phloem
and her own roots grew deeper into the earth.
The hope turned to sadness to anger
and back to hope again
and then all emotions oozed out as sap.

Wind will rip her leaves away,
locusts will descend upon her trunk,
their dead shells will stain her bark,
even if she gives the gods the wine and the goose.

It's still possible to stand tall and weathered
with a heart that pumps from empty veins.