It is good to stand in a high wind
On a hill with a wide view of the world
A tall strong being well planted to the earth
When the hard air comes and rattles the last leaves
And stretches, stretches the branches back and back
Into a wide gesture opening to all that comes.
There may be a moment, or two, or three
It is true, when the bending is so far and so deep
And the wind so strong and so hard, and
One has seen the others, lying broken
On the hill, their color fading, and their last water
Returning to the earth.
It could happen.
The only option then seems surrender
To feel the force of time and all it brings
Rolling back and back and back in total yielding
Until the air’s fury in all its impersonal timelessness
Forces the branches to touch the earth
And a bridge to another moment is created.
One finds there the shape and space to fit into the world
And the moment passes and one stands strong
And newly supple; the air is again a soft massage
And the timeless sun feeds another day.