Seasons come and seasons go and you accept all that life brings your way; rain, hail, frost, drought, icy-cold whipping winds, dappled light to ferocious burning sun.
Your leaves turn from meadow green to sunny yellow to rustic orange and then brown like a crinkly paper lunch bag.
Your summer dress falls away in an elegant dance to the cold, earthy ground below, creating an artistic autumn carpet of divine design.
You wear your nakedness with beauty and grace. Your branches outstretched towards the heavens as if in exalted prayer.
Yet your roots stay firmly entrenched in mother earth, warmed and nurtured, all your needs provided for from her deep love of your existence.
You continue to be, all that you have always been and always will be. Life changes around you and you physically adapt. But at your core, you are always you, ye old wise tree.