A tree
does not wander off—
it waits
with slow circles
of seasons and sun
seeking
root-deep.

It bends
but never begs—
even in storms
it stands proud
asks nothing
while it covers
for everything.

Each leaf
a quiet rebirth
each branch
a moment
for reaching out
for the light.

It will not
pull you close—
but if you sit
beneath me
it will shade
your sorrow
until you’re ready
to bloom
again.