Look for my signs

I was so busy living,
I did not see
the poinsettia flowers
had emerged
outside my window,

last winter
the tree was struggling;
losing a battle to
white ants and blight,
the leaves dried up,
the stems turned hollow,

gradually turning into
a monument to

(still, I took a spade to it
and cleaned it out,
applied medication,
said a prayer)

all winter it was dead,
withered and waiting,

a stark hand against a sky,

then this summer it came alive
green with leaves
raw with scars

a fighter,
like me

today I see the flowers,
skimming the tops

and God said,
look for my signs

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