Draft 1

this poem isn't about ego, this poem is about truth.

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i'm not much different than nature, the deep freezes of winter.

i am the rhododendron that circles up her broad leaves in the winter
to stay green despite her genus. i stay circled tight, not dead but
holding in heat to make it through the cold.

the thawing of late February, i flow down mountains into rivers and
rush along banks as rivers swell.

i quietly prepare for what spring will bring, i stay inside taking in
all i need to show the world what i've been creating.

The darkness shortens as daylight and sun extend and i prepare to show
my new growth.

spring rains and i am the bulb taking water, pushing up through earth
to blossom with orange fire.

i am the "leaf turning pale bellies to the sky," spreading viens,
taking in every bit of moisture needed to grow through this spring.

as april turns to may, layers are shed and songs are sung at dawn,
preparing for flight. spring greens as newness flourishes.

i am a mid-day thunderstorm darkening sunny skies; the flower that
closes when the sun says "good day." and opens up upon her certain
return.

i ebb and flow keeping time with each advance and retreat all the
while making progress.

i recognize the cycle of growth, of time and understand the importance
of retreat. i am the tree that burns fire
through the fall as we lose degrees and unpack blankets.

i drop my leaves with color expended to prepare for grey. skies darken
when we once craved light but it is with purpose, to prepare for the
next chapter of life.

constant are mountains created over time from grains of experience,
standing tall, standing proud. my roots hidden deep within the ground
and reflected by my limbs and branches stretched out across the sky.