and my toes curl on the grass
I am reborn.
As autumn lays the land to rest
leaves welcoming the crunch,
I am reborn.
As winter chips away at bark
I cast off all facades.
Since the Gods relented
some two score years ago,
each night my soul brought to the scales,
each sunrise returned to the world, feather outmatched,—
every breath, a dare
to meet Their steep demands
on which this sacred pact depends,—
I am reborn.
And as the naked, tired birch
softly stumbles into spring
beholden to ineffable devices
again, and again, and again I am reborn.
