In spring, her bare branches bud fresh leaves.
Mourning doves line them like singers in the choir loft
Days lengthen. Nests shelter the newly hatched
and later, provide a launch point for fledglings.
Summer storms set limbs swinging.
Wind whips and boughs bend scattering twigs across the grass.
Autumn approaches and tired yellow leaves
spin and twirl before other trees begin to color.
Woodpeckers harvest invaders who leave white bark
pockmarked and peeling. Daylight diminishes.
Snow falls, blending with her naked trunk.
Mourning doves line her branches.
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