I am a young tree bending in the wind, not sure of my strength. A child climbs my trunk  to find her sacred spot amongst my leaves, to write, to dream. My limbs wrap around her words and she smiles in the safety of my canopy of green.

A young woman, too big to climb, now sits below my crown. Her head lies against my bark and she seeks direction. The wind blows and I bow to her questions. My maple leaves rustle above her head and she smiles at the promise of endless possibilities ahead.

Grown now, my roots entangle deep with the ground. Solid and sturdy my branches touch the sky. An old woman returns to me.  Frail, her hand touches me softly; she asks for nothing.

Confident in our resiliency, we are one.

musing-sketch-02-2019

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *