Landing
Maintaining a singular
form from sprout.
The pieces are one,
a hardening stout.
Their sole construct
not two, but longer.
A fibery duct
makes their
sinew much stronger.
After the growth
they turn old and brittle,
striving skyward
but dry in the middle.
Final flight together,
caught by a breeze.
Still they are tethered,
fall down through the trees.
As one they fly
where once they were standing.
Not coming apart
not releasing their hearts,
until the ultimate
landing.