If I were a tree
I’d be a willow tree.
A weeping willow tree, to be exact.
Although sometimes I imagine myself as the small, scraggly tree
growing between the rocks on the canyon wall.
Or perhaps the last pine, right at tree line.
Once in awhile, when I grow weary of the long mountain winters,
I imagine myself as a palm tree.
And sometimes, a glowing yellow aspen tree in the fall.
But I always come back the the willow tree.
Simultaneously weeping at the beauty and ugliness of the world.
My roots digging deeper, trying to stay upright despite the changes.
Branches hanging long in attempt to shelter other beings
from the harshness of it all.
For You, to sit under.
To pause. To think. To reflect.
To make your own meaning,
even as darkness sets.
Yes, if I were a tree, I’d be a Weeping Willow Tree.
With tears of grief and joy.
My friend, now I wonder, if you were a tree,
which one would you be?