A willow tree hides

at the edge of the orchard,

Streams of withered leaves

veiling its stooping trunk.

 

Struggling to survive,

Its roots are sparse and fractured,

And its brittle branches snap - 

At the lightest gust.

 

All will for life,

Seemingly sucked

Into the soil.

 

But within the crumbling walls of bark,

Its rings of wisdom lie.

Tales of brutal storms surpassed,

Etched between the lines.

 

They are not scars,

but stories.

Of ancient solitude, distress,

Yet the labyrinth of spirals

guides the way to peacefulness.

 

As the days grow shorter and

the dew begins to run,

The branches are stripped

of their facade.

 

No leaf will ever live to see

All corners of the sun,

But the dusty inner halos

will still glow beneath the bark,

Endlessly.

 

Eternal beauty;

always found

at the heart

of a willow tree.

 

- Nature's Wisdom