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.