I am gone—
	But my memory lives,
	Because a man
	Wrote a poem
	About my leaves,
	My roots and branches,
	My earthly wisdom
	Now turned
	To dirt and dust.
	Who will write
	That man's song?
	Who will sing
	Of what he learned
	Once he, too,
	Is gone?
	Sister sun,
	Brother tree—
	It is they
	Who will sing
	Of him,
	When he
	Has joined with me?
	That is our
	Man and tree.
	One leaf and branch,
	One life
	Are we.
	That Truth, perhaps,
	Someone else
	Will someday also see.


© Fred O'Bryant. All rights reserved.

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