The Sapling

A sapling stands in the forest,

Thin and tall.

 The sun’s warm rays

Shimmer just out of reach.

Leafs upturned,

She stretches to the sun.

Harsh wind curls around her trunk,

Cutting into her bark like

Bears do in the spring.

Brown leaves swirl.

Chilled drops cover her leaves.

Excess spills over,

Burrowing into the ground

Exposing her roots.

Still the sapling stretches high.

Growing.

Snow covers the ground like a blanket.

A purple flower beside her shivers.

Its leaves drooping.

She outstretches her hand,

Lending her light.

It bursts through the cracks

In her bark

Warming the air.