The bending branch

The tree that never changes form

Will break in winter’s fiercest storm;

The rigid oak in wind and rain

May live, but with the scars that maim

It’s branches, made of wood too brittle, 

Breaking where they bend too little.

The tree that bends in winter rain

Shall see the light of sun again;

The willow, through the frosting gail,

Proves that softness can prevail –

She drifts as life would have her blown

So that she weeps in name alone.

The willow welcomes the winter breeze

That prunes away her fickle leaves,

In wind her branches know to dance

With gentler arms for firmer stance;

Her seeming weakness makes her strong,

The thunder is her favourite song.

Let not the storms get caught inside,

For storms are not by doubt denied,

And storms you do not let pass on

Remain with you when winds are gone,

While bending branches find their strength,

And storms surrendered last no length.