a tree blows over in the wind

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a tree blows over in the wind

moist dirt flies up

landing amongst the tangle of white

that had just seconds before acted as an anchor

darkening the grass that was once green


the tree had told stories

for it had been there for years

nurturing those that came to it

who sat

protected by it’s outreached arms

and full branches

from immense heat


the tree had witnessed a war

had seen the struggle of innocents

as they were oppressed

gunned down

the tree wept with its leaves

each one individually drifting through the stagnant air

but with each year the tree had grown stronger

not allowing the pain to tear it down


but the wind had been ferocious

a force unlike any other

the wind didn’t like what the tree stood for




the forces built of around the tree

nature acting against one of its own

and with a mighty gust

the tree became the oppressed




seek the strength

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seek the strength


of the river

that forges forward all through the day and night

the river that gives so much of itself to you


of your family

those that are constants in your life

they’d do anything for you


of the tree

that sits in your front yard for it has weathered much

but it keeps its roots firmly dug into the ground


in your heart

let it guide you in all that you do

nothing holds as much strength as this beating fist seized organ


in moments of weakness

we oft forget the strengths around us

but when we find them

our lives blossom beautifully

and even if only for a second

the world seems peaceful

the fog has not left for days

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the fog has not left for days

a white wall cascades up from the river

trapping us in the coldness of its depths

and everything in between us

has been cast with a thin layer of white

the willow tree out the window

its branches curving down with the extra weight

threatening to touch the ground

even the sagebrush has been frosted

seemingly creating a winter desert

freezing its inhabitants

separating us from the rest of the world


the tree in the meadow is my friend

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the tree in the meadow is my friend


during the spring its new (l)(e)(a)(v)(e)(s)

protect me from the rain

we watch the flowers bloom

and the fields turn green


during the summer its long, sinewy branches and leaves

protect me from the scorching sun

while we read an old tattered book

or try to write one


during the fall my friend begins to lose its leaves

at the end of one branch

a lone, red (leaf) hangs

waiting to fall off

I watch it carefully

holding on to the thought

that it will never fall off


but it does


and during the winter

it stands tall but lonely

our friendship weakens

if only briefly

until the cold air starts to turn warm