Leaning Tree

And this, our life... 
finds tongue in trees, 
books in the running brooks, 
sermons in stone...
William Shakespeare

Beside the creek– 
Water low within its boundaries,

Frozen in its slow places,

Banks edged in white;

An old tree leans out tentatively

Trying to bridge the icy water,

Touch the stream it shaded
 Last summer

Next year 
It will be firewood

Stacked neatly in the barn

And along the back porch

To warm us for another

Season to come.