Green Fingertips

Forest scene
Photo by Picography on PexelsPexels.com

You live in the green fingertips
of spring and everything you make
is free to follow the scent
of the warm wind to grow
wherever it feels loved


until the bark hardens with
its anxious, rigid boundaries
stuffing the green deep inside
the wood that vaguely remembers
being alive but mostly feels stuck


until by some miracle or lightning
strike, the branch falls and rots,
creating new life that pushes its
tiny head from the ground swelling
into the scent of your warm wind.


Morgan Guyton