When I see you standing naked like this
in the colder parts of the year,
I always look at your newest parts first,
where your skin remains thin enough
to show the color
of the blood that runs quick beneath.
While others cover their unemployed limbs
with flowers that fall away
as soon as attraction is achieved,
you merely grow,
and though I know these soft fingers
must join with your thick, rippled trunk,
I remember your secret
of growing new parts from old.
