Somewhere in the distance
around the bend,
stands a tree,
alone and marked
against the mass of clouds,
its branches proclaim
that it's a survivalist plant.
The reeds of grass,
the pebbles and thorns
at my feet, lose the sting.
The tree sways.
Its faraway charm elevates the sky higher still.
I may have to walk a mile
before I reach the shade of the grove which takes in the tree.
From here at this spot,
I watch and let heal
whatever needs to be healed.