“At the end of your life
you’re gonna be all used up”
When does it end?
The redbud holds no blooms.
When will it be spring again?
Her leaves were torn by autumn winds.
Winter became cold so soon.
After the frost, will it end?
Summer dried her broken limbs
and lightning struck her through.
Please let it be spring again.
If she had a forest of friends,
instead of dry grass and a few
stones, she’d not hope to meet her end.
Her twig ends do not bend.
Green grows not in her shoots.
She doesn’t know it’s spring again.
Early chirpings have hope to lend,
though her trunk’s core is a tomb.
This redbud has met this end,
though it’s finally spring again.