A tall, elegant birch weathered with age keeps a sly and steady eye out on the world. Her highest branches tower over all, and keep all in order. Knowledge and power course through her roots and her bark oozes the sense of wisdom. All revere under her, hold her in highest regard, and behold nothing but respect before her. The mighty watchman extends her slender limbs to the sky as she soaks up the sunshine. Her branches creak and saw in a calm breeze. Noiseless and patient, every bit of the tree waits for one summer rain. She pleads right to the spindly tips of her roots, right through the ends of her bare branches. Her skeletal build holds up as promising grey clouds begin to form. Droplets begin to fall at an increasing pace; they even out to a pitter patter - just as the day her seed was first sowed. An exact measure of time has passed since that day, and still all the mighty birch needs is love. And she is loved by all, as she always will be - even as the rain falls.
September 21, 2008