Bark Weaving

I like to imagine
That bark is made
When God borrows
A tad from the sky
And the earth
And mixes them together
Then he adds a sprinkle of life
Never too much
And he takes the mixture
And uses the clouds
Those big, fluffy round ones
And spins it into
Yarn
Working quickly
Before it dries
We carefully weaves
The strands
Over, under, over
Tucking in an end here
Snipping off a frayed bit
There
Till he has the outline
Of a tiny tree
He watches it harden
Smiles
And stores it away
To give to the tree
When it grows into it

And when it gets too big
He'll pass it on
To another tree
To wear proudly