I did my growing-up in kingdoms and swing sets splattered far and wide
across this worn Earth-world.
Vine-covered buildings dropped their leaves at my arrival,
and armed with only a glue gun and a green marker
I tried to right the wrong of my being
in the place I was living.
No-one told me it was natural.
Natural to shed one’s coat or skin
either because of personal growth
or a season’s whim.
No-one told me it was natural,
seven years behind us now,
to be imperfect every once in a while.
That sometimes nature has ideas bigger than
our day-to-day interactions and reactions.
That sometimes leaves will fall and skins will stretch or shed
for the best of us and the best of them.
Yet when they do, see not a naked scar
but a rugged skeleton letting