She Is

She Is With the advent of Spring’s crisp rains, She extends limbs in relief, strained. Like the grizzly, who, likewise emerges from Winter’s slumber. Her smooth, lobed tendrils reach, and reach, As if to grasp for an enigmatic Truth. Like the mind’s reach for the name of a once familiar song. She is patient. Grounded firmly in the past, reaching out to greet the future. Indeed, She is the Universe’s sharpest clock, an eternal metronome from which time itself springs forth. She is the mover of mountains, the giver of life. She is the metric standard from which all other beauty is carefully measured. The ancestral wisdom, the selfless martyr, the Taoist’s muse. She is… A Tree.