BIRCHES

Slim,
lanky saplings stand
emerging adolescents
they gather in small groups
swaying easy
with the wind,
their lithe muscles
offer no resistance
to the flow of air.
They shed skin,
peeling strips of paper white
without self loathing,
without a fight
for a sense of belonging.
They stand
moving
amongst their peers
adding rings
with passing years
waving
in a ritual dance,
mysterious vibration
giving in
to wind.