Gnarled

Cave was carved from crumbling rock, inhabited by a seagull flock, which chirped and squawked the day away, mottled chicks would stretch and play. Above this cave a gnarled tree sat watching guard, solitarily, it felt ashamed, neither green nor tall, a stubby bush, not much at all. No matter where the birds would roam, always they could find their cliff home, for like a beacon, seen from sky, shrub guided them while they did fly. So everything does have a role, be it a star or simple mole, no matter beauty or hidden skill, we all must do what is God's will.