a tree abandoned by the forest
and overshadowed by the sky
knows this kind of loneliness
where no doe would seek shelter
and no bee share its fruits
seeds fall gently into the stream
where the wind gives no answers
and the clouds race forward
offer no shoulder to the teary twig
there the roots are small, yet they find
a way through the hardest of soils
and the driest of seasons
hide in a place where the fire
doesn't turn cold