I was young
breaking bark off branches
in love with the
cracking sound, the
peeling
the branches never said no
they never hurt me or my friends
as I got older, the trees
stayed the same
the soil kept its oath
to the maple
I don’t know where or
how long ago
but those flakes of bark
became friends
and friends they stayed
I still find them even now
these brittle friends
they float
often over me
