I sometimes hold leaves and flowers, newborn things, and marvelous creations, fully grown. I’m strong enough for others to build nested dreams upon my frame. I support a universe; I shade everyone near me.
I lose all foliage, and then I sometimes carry only frozen drops of paralysis and blocked flow. I sometimes weep water coming down from above or ooze the sap of wounds. But this way, so much shines through every empty cut or stripped down limb. The sun turns me golden.
And sometimes, when the conditions form perfectly, I carry the snow like frosting. I make a winter palace. I’m a marvel.