A Diversion
In the dawn, the tree is waking. It stretches like a cat
and throws itself as a maiden at the feet of her lover
toward the sun’s golden rays. It does not know
the sun has problems of its own and cannot undertake
a great journey of self discovery for the tree, nor does it care
its advances go unnoticed in the sea of forest around it.
It stretches for itself, for its benefit and beauty, and the
joy of undertaking an endeavor for its own sake.
A brook flows merrily beside the tangled roots
of the tree, murmuring under its breath,
“Do not reach, do not stretch, do not stray.
Why do you strain when he does not love you?”
The tree has no answer. It can only spread its foliage
to soak up the sun, content in its state of being.