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A Birch Tree

A Birch Tree

scales the side
of the highest hill
holding fast with roots
not plunging so deep—
a standout in a sea of green.
From spruce to willow
and poplar to a few scattered
cedar. I am more than
a fist of iron in
my demeanor—
like a moose in the forest
stalwart and independent.
Then someone came
and cut me down—
a hiker cold and alone.
He chopped me in smaller
pieces into kindling. Now I am
his fireball of warmth.

(c) 2017 Richard L. Provencher

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