The Maple's Gifts

My tree has giv’n but is not dead,

My maple by my garden shed.

Through summer rain and thund’rous blast

It steadfast (by roots held fast)!

The deadened limbs were not as sound

Now they lay across the ground.

And added to this battlefield

My garden maple’s second yield

Of leaves once verdant color filled

Now transformed by autumn’s chill

I gather them and place them in

My kindling fire container bin

To warm my head, my hands, my feet

Through winter’s snow, and ice, and sleet.

Till Spring arrives and then once more

My maple grows and leaves restore.

-2016