The Weathered Tree

I am a tree whose bark is gray with age, coated tip to root with a variety of moss,

Standing, miniscule, against an infinite cloudy sky,

And yet, despite this, I grow.

Every day new leaves grace my reaching arms,

To replace what raging winds and wailing storms have taken from me .

Even when Demeter's rage has stripped me bare in the coldest season,

The blue jays, my effervescent friends, still make their homes amongst my branches,

Reminding me that in my hardest moments, I am still capable of being loved,

And of loving.

And I know, that even if the hue of life has left me now,

That when Summer comes around again,

I will be even taller,

Even stronger,

And slightly less afraid of that ever-reaching sky, and its winds, and it's storms,

Because even despite all of that,

I am growing,

And I am changing.