I’m not ready to die

Life, like the seasons, is cyclical;
a circle of growth, life, death and suspension.
Did I mention I’m still growing?
I’m at that mid-point between spring and summer
New buds appear from here and there.
I take care to nourish them; to help them blossom and bloom –
their beauty to share with you… and you.
It won’t be long, and yet too soon, they will wither.
I will drop my guard and fall.
My limbs will start to ache and yet… behold!
Autumnal leaves of red and gold will blanket the forest floor –
crisp for a while; underfoot percussion to our leisurely meanderings
until the rains turn all to molten mush and cold creeps in.
Come! Hither!
Put your arms around me.
Hear how the branches crackle?
How the trunk stiffens; held firm in the shackles of winter?
Blustering winds may rally to tear me apart, but I’m not ready to take my final breath.
Whilst a part of me cannot evade this thing called death, I will rest for a while;
let glistening snowflakes adorn and fire-breasted birds alight.
Offer myself to the elements as I lie dormant… still…beautiful.
Nature will work her magic and I will spring back to life,
to sparkle in my newly sown gown of peridot, emerald and jade.