I Am A Tree

As a wizened old tree, scarred and weathered,
My roots go deep, I’m anchored and tethered.
To my patch of life, to my fate, my home,
No longer like young seeds who dream and roam.
Now comfort I find in my wooded lot,
This cool shaded glen that I call my spot.
Troubles and dangers have all passed by here,
Yet somehow my strength has grown through the years.
Steadfast I stand not in what I might be,
I believe in myself,
For I am a tree.

3/22/06

by Gary Bryson

Comments (1)

Wonderful metaphor. I love old trees that have weathered all seasons. We can draw inspiration from them. Kindest regards, Sandra