Just a Thought with a Question or Two

The bones of what was standing in the sprouts of what could be all in the shadow of what is. Here I sit with my back to a tree. Looking back over the way I've come. Thinking of what might be, all in the shade of the day. The bones, they crumble and fall, Sprouts they fight for every bit of sunlight, the shadows shorten and lengthen as the day moves on. Could I sit here tomorrow, had I sat here yesterday. My thoughts move on like the trail, an easy walk back, forward unknown, they both go on. Only the tree stands steady, not noticing my back.