I strive to be as the sapling;
Flexible in the path of the raging gale.
The sapling does not struggle against its foe,
It does not stand rigid as an elder,
It bows gracefully and without pretense.
Even in its youth
The sapling knows it could not withstand the fury,
So by yielding it survives unscathed.
This is the wisdom lost to maturity.
With age the sapling becomes increasingly inflexible
Until in time its trunk refuses to bend.
We are not so unlike the simple tree,
Showing great resilience in childhood,
Becoming unwavering and obstinate with age.
Oh what I would not give to be as the lowly sapling.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~