The bird song begins earlier than I am prepared to hear it.
The sun has not yet made his entrance
to this side of the world
but I feel light dawning inside me.
My leaves are strewn about,
having landed violently at my feet last night.
My branches are sore,
I rocked and groaned all night long,
and my trunk is weaker --
I am cracked
and missing a few layers --
but my roots,
they go deeper than you could imagine,
and I will not falter.
I may sway,
shed pieces to the storm,
but I will not fall.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
The bird song begins earlier than I am prepared to hear it.
The sun has not yet made his entrance
to this side of the world
but I feel light dawning inside me.
My leaves are strewn about,
having landed violently at my feet last night.
My branches are sore,
I rocked and groaned all night long,
and my trunk is weaker --
I am cracked
and missing a few layers --
but my roots,
they go deeper than you could imagine,
and I will not falter.
I may sway,
shed pieces to the storm,
but I will not fall.