The Sleeping Tree

The tree had lain down like a slumberous giant –

Lain down, one might have thought, to die –

But sap is wily; wood is pliant;

Bountiful still are soil and sky.

The boughs not bowed below its body

Raised up like flowers after snow,

And on its length, once tall and haughty,

A dwarflike forest seemed to grow.

Our thriving takes a thousand forms,

And some of them look like defeat;

But while the sun still gently warms,

The earth still teems beneath our feet,

We have enough to make our vigor show,

For all to witness, and a few to know.