Like An Oak
like an old oak with a dried up knothole
I stand in the wind, feeling her iciness now
arthritis flares up in my roots when there is a wind chill
Wind chill being the perfect word for it.
like an immovable mountain, I stand my ground.
Sure that I am right; unwilling to change any ideas
for I have changed them too many times already.
This is what getting older does for some mountains.
like a summers day I dance in many colors of oranges
Pinks, reds, purples and greens too; I am a frothy fluffy mess.
Time has shown me that being myself and living my truths is preferable
to being a young willow whipping around in the wind, thinking she knows everything.
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