something took root here
quietly, where light was allowed to linger a little longer than it
should have

it learned the shape of being received
pressing into what held it
threading itself through resistance
becoming part of the structure

and then
it was cut back

not shaped
not guided

removed at the stem
the root system hesitating to understand it had been severed

--

winter did not arrive all at once
it entered as withdrawal

sap pulling inward from outer limbs
the smallest veins unfilled
leaving color to drain unevenly from surface to core
green thinned to dull ash

bark tightened over empty channels, and leaves did not fall so much as lose the agreement to remain attached

frost worked slowly through the system

not breaking it
but making it forget how to extend itself outward

buds formed and stopped
mid-decision
held in a state that never resolved into a season

and still, reflexively, they bent toward light
bent without purpose
a reaching that no longer knew what it was shaped to meet


Penned by my hand on the 24th of Lupar, in the year 1002 AF.