What Am I?
Dry and cracked, yet gently swayed
by that which passes by, rarely stopping.
My pigment altered
with the turning of a blue orb.
Once every sun’s rotation,
I float to there from whence I came.
Brief cold, darkness, ice. Then…
recycled, I again am born,
now soft and flexible.
Rains I shelter you from.
Through natural materials,
I provide energy for one other.
In the bright, I give darkness.
I slowly die, annually, but
my existence soon over? No.
The cycle begins again!