I am not my work

It is what I was given to do

I am not my home

It is what I was given to tend

I am not my children
They are what I was given to cherish

What I am is that tree
burnished by rising sun
toes deep in the rooted earth
fingertips held up and open
to the mystery of the sky.

Crown gilded by light.

Crown touching the light
and sky, the earth below.
The mystery of it, the power of it, the truth
of it is, I am

That easily turned to flame.