The barrel of the long-dead tree stands
twelve feet high with jagged spires that point upward.
How many years have tiny foot pads traveled the
fissured and bored pathways of this old giant?
A million life forms homing here,
nourished here.
A magnificent city, growing and consuming,
spilling out its last gifts in life-dust
folding back into the soil.

I lean against the great barrel of a tall-leafed maple
looking out into the night,
welcomed with the same grace that welcomes nests and nestlings. 
I look out from my great teacher.
I too am still growing,
still seeking to learn this way of standing.
Standing still, yet giving all you are,
folding generously into life.