This bough bends, but never breaks,
It strains, but never quits,
It groans, but never cries out,
It carries the weight and holds on,
It waits for the winds to cease,
For the cold to lose it's grip,
For spring to come once more,
For the breeze's warm caress,
For the rapture of bursting buds,
To take in the sweetness of the first blossom,
To bear fruit and be laden ,
Again aware and filled with purpose once more.
