The Trees Like Our Children

Reaching

Under dark and barren skies
Young trees twist and turn
At the behest of the wind
So tender and subtle
No strain do they feel
And daylight arrives again

Amongst the clatter and commotion
Of yet another storm's wrath
Growing takes place
Scars are made over
And winter brings them rest.

Taller and less pliant
They stand against the wind
Limbs flying about wildly
Screeching and cracking
At a deafening pitch

As though cradled by the Almighty
They survive to sprout leaves anew
Through each season and storm
Somehow they've grown strong
To bear fruit and nourish us all