She blends in with the other stark trees from late fall to early spring. Soon, her chameleon backdrop will be flush with green. She will stand in the starkness of her exception to spring. But one cannot deny wondering her prowess and beauty she must’ve once known. Nor can one deny the beauty of her dance now.  Unlike her backdrop, she forever dances unveiled. Unlike her backdrop that teaches the rhythm of change she stands in sameness.

I stand and honor my mirror. I bow to her stark image of brokenness and what was. And then the whisper, “When the wind gathers another branch to nurture the ground, have I not changed? When I offer my bark to a bird, squirrel, or even an insect, have I not changed? My starkness is an offering. It is the hole in the pocket unnoticed by the one who gives their money. It is bread broken to be shared with others. If I am a mirror, would that your eyes celebrate the stark beauty and offering of brokenness.”