The unbroken willow bends in the wind

   Arms, or branches, outstretched, she reaches ever up

      Toward a higher power.

Unattainable?

Fearing so.

   The brisk wind intensifies.

        Her branches begin to splinter,

And she weeps

Her fears gnawing deeply as she rides out the

Onslaught.

She will not go down. Not this day!

       The birds chirp in reply.

  The Willow stands once more.

And weeps no longer