That Gnarled Old Tree

that gnarled old tree,
you thought was dead,
withstood the winter storms.
bare bent limbs reaching,
against odds to bud,
holding the sky
in a lovers embrace.
home to the sparrow,
the worm, and the squirrel...
shade to the weary,
a constant guide to the lost.
without name, without need,
rooted deep in the earth...

that gnarled old tree...
is me!