Rippled bark marked with chasms and canyons. A knot cracked and opened, revealing inner tender skin. Burls adorned with mustard toppings. Shadings of cream, caramel and chocolate. Fragments of feathers cling to rough edges, and patches bleached from years of exposure. Bark splitting, peeling, pulling away as life from inside pushes outward.  Beauty that only a poplar of many seasons has to offer. The dignity and loveliness of the signs of aging.

Eyes open but cannot see

Beauty in lines and creases

Upon my face.