To Be a Tree
One morn I sat and gazed upon a tree,
From dimmest dawn to brilliant noon,
And wished that I could be one.
Sturdy, straight,
Upward yearning:
Trunk, limbs, branches, twigs,
In unison aligned---
Heavenward turning.
Accepting whatever comes its way:
Sun or Rain, Warmth or Chill, Flakes of Snow and Ice,
Stoically bearing burdens.
Furious became I with myself,
Not to mention jealous;
Why can't I accept what Nature grants,
Or am I only human?
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018
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