A sycamore tree stands bare
Autumn has striped it of its leaves
Winter has given it stretch marks
In the form of shedding barks
But the sycamore tree stands
Strong and sturdy, bold and brilliant
Camouflaged with colors
Yet seen by all who dare to look
It lacks its leaves but not its life
It sheds its bark but not its beauty
Nothing’s abnormal about it
All is consistent with its growth
As long as the bark shedding shows
No decay or exposed wood, all’s good
The tree is growing and maturing
And its shedding testifies to that truth