Sycamore

Today was the day to capture you
in your state of undress,
your white-as-chalk limbs
glistening in the sun.

I was too late.

Your high crown still shimmered,
but your body dissolved in shadow
as winter's piercing rays
slid silently west.

Tomorrow, I'll return
and you will tell me
how to take root in
unforgiving soil

and thrive.