My teacher, the tree



No resistance to the shedding
The beauty in letting go
No resistance to the storms
The beauty of being blown
No resistance to the blooming
The beauty of new growth
No resistance to the fullness
The beauty of it all.

Branches gone, stripped bare
Essence remains, still a tree
Nothing real is lost




2 thoughts on “My teacher, the tree”

  1. How appropriate to begin with autumn; visible shedding of the old, along with invisible strength that goes deep into roots for storage. This is lovely.

    1. Thanks Joanna. I wrote the first part for my writing class, then the other day, the electricity company came and chopped the trees down. I was so sad to see them go and that prompted the second part, which is a haiku.

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