The crispy bark of the river birch
slips generously
from the crooked trunk,
shag bark with its annual shed
announced by golden trumpets
slipping elongated
in spring rains
sliding downward as 
children sled down a snowy slope,
loose hanging splotches
of lichen birthed on each piece,
photosynthesizing as it
slurps up nutrients from raindrops
and air,
lie in wait for the
hummingbird to glean small pieces
for its nest, gray and green lichen
dripping secrets
along the way.