It’ll take time to grow again,
To sprout a newer me from grafted self.
I spliced my old identity and bound it,
Let it draw sap from tired blood,
leak resin, drip through wrinkled bark.
It will take time to forest from a single tree,
From a clone create another generation.
Nature never learned to count. Unhurried,
It will observe its own season’d clock.
I shall never see that new harvest,
Taste the fruit of that second tillage.
[23 May 2016] |