Radial

In the sloping yard of the seminary, there’s a barren tree
Despite the winter white it’s radiating, apparently
As there’s no snow in a radius, underneath
And as I pass in a vehicle I think:
In this sloping yard of spirituality, this is the after life 
No more leaves but a legacy, revealed
Upon the confluence of snow and observation, serendipitous
As I pass I’m warm from this tree, this yard, this life.