“Lovely...Lastly” by S.E. Page

Lovely....Lastly

We love trees for their many changeling skins—

Petal profusions explode star-like only to shed loose in wonder silks, budding into green-winged shade, later f a l l i n g in paper-pressed jewels, raising limbs ultimate and b a r e as song to the sky—

So why can’t I love myself for all these myriad mortal changes, too?

We can’t love ~*~

the same thing in ourselves— how the blue hours shrivel, strip and wither all we are d o w n

to the root.

But nobody faults a tree for a life of beauty bound by time— changes come for every lovely . . .

lastly one.