Full circle
Some things just don't change. They find some sheltered corner to escape from howling wind and treacherous rains, waiting for a glimmer of light, not anything substantial even, just a patch of sun poking through the tapestry of clouds, humble and faint but there. And so it waits, growing and maturing and not yet strong enough to reveal itself till you look around and where there was once just a brown patch of dirt of the soul you find a tree, big enough to give shelter to others from those downpours and winds, big enough to climb up to the highest branches and from there, look to the horizon, looking forward to the dawn.