fallen tree

Sentinel of the prairie what laid you down
stripped of your grandeur, prostrate on the ground?
A victim of age, the storm’s wintery blast,
or a bolt from the sky that found you at last?
Observer of history as it crossed the plains,
a landmark for settlers, refuge from the rains.
Hidden are you now from the dawn’s first light.
A witness no more to the hawk’s soaring flight.
Growing plants upon your breast, while insects in you toil.
Molecules dancing on the air, humus blending with the soil.
Is death with you final, or will you live again
in other forms of life that rise from the land?

~S.i.m.p.L.e~