I am a tree.
I stand tall and proud in the summer sun,
Full of life, bearing fruit.
Her gentle breeze blows softly against me,
Each leaf swaying to the tune that dances through me.

I am a tree.
I stand strong against the wrath of autumn as
She threatens to strip me of all that I am.
I sway,
I bend,
I crack,
Until, relentlessly, I let go of that which is dying.
I weep and my leaves fall like tears from my branches.

I am a tree.
I stand in solitude against the bitter chill of winter.
All that is left is laid bare in the vast expanse.
Nothing to hide,
Nothing to give,
Is this my destiny?
Will I die here, barren and alone?

Oh, but I am a tree!
I stand because my roots go deep,
Woven in the foundation that makes me who I am.
I will sigh,
I will shiver,
But I will not lose hope!
For I know the song of Spring,
I have carved her melody on the walls of my heart.
And though silently,
I will sing!
Until I feel the first glimmer of her warmth
As she comes to embrace me.
Oh, and then I will rise!
I will greet her with buds of promise
I will find again my purpose
And burst forth with life anew.

I am a tree.
And I stand.