Hope

When I see something as simple and free,   As an earthbound, strong, yet windblown tree, My eyes deceive me as I stare and gaze,   Then my heart sees within, clearly, through the maze. I often pondered, each ring inside ring,   If . . . underneath . . . that old tree could sing, Of the years and the deeds, and the strangers and friends,   Of happiness, and sorrows, as the old trunk bends. Each branch has a story, of its very own,   Each leaf lived a life, before being blown, The tattered nests, the children's swing,   Year after year, grows a wider ring. Consider your own life, and what it has meant,   Look inside, find your branches, some strong and some bent, All in all, you will find, you have lived through alot,   The winters were cold, and the summers so hot. We, like that tree, have been torn and tossed,   We've weathered the years, and we've sometimes lost, Though we may not always believe in the best,   The sun always rises, and sets in the West. So if your roots are solid, and deep and strong,   If you nurture your heart, and you want to live on, You will find, like the tree, with its limbs reaching high,   That you, too . . . with hope . . . can touch the sky. Written July 5th, 1995 © on Nov 13 2001 12:04 PM PST   18 • 12 • 10