The Reaching Tree

"What bends in storm will rise again in sky."

The branches reach though storms may tear them wide,

their fingers aching for a distant flame.

The roots hold fast, the soil their only guide.

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They bend with winter, still they will not hide,

they carry upward every whispered name.

The branches reach though storms may tear them wide.

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Through blossom’s birth and autumn’s failing tide,

they write their longing in the sky the same.

The roots hold fast, the soil their only guide.

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Though snow may bind and summer’s heat divide,

they rise relentless in their ancient claim.

The branches reach though storms may tear them wide.

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What breaks below becomes their strength applied,

their scars are songs the heavens can proclaim.

The roots hold fast, the soil their only guide,

the branches reach though storms may tear them wide.