The Past Lives Tree Poem by Grant House

I am a crow
At the top of my quite dead
Past lives tree
I look out through those crow eyes
And wonder with my human mind
About the quality of light near the horizon
That tree
No leaves
No sap
Just sun bleached tree bones
Jutting up
Curvy crooked sideways branches upon which accomplishments used to hang like ornaments popping out through lush green leaves
Relationship branches held entire worlds of friends and family
Careers came and went
This empty tree stands today as evidence
I was here
Now, the oddly curving branches point the way (up)even as I look out
My tree of life
Kind of died
The pinnacle of this makeshift cathedral
Makes for good sittin'
No longer attached
I recognize
This is enough