The Winds of Change
The smell of rain
fills the nighttime air
as the dark clouds
race across the sky.
There’s a storm coming.
The wind blows the trees,
first to the left,
then to the right.
Bending limbs
stretching branches
to the point of breaking,
yet they don’t.
This is the force of nature.
Nothing can stop it,
nothing can change it.
It has a will all its own.
So often, I think
that I have control of my own life.
In reality, I am but a helpless sapling
swaying to the left
then to the right;
bending to a force
much stronger than my own,
yielding to the wishes
of something I cannot control.
It’s something more powerful than
my efforts to resist.
Finally, I yield
to the winds of change;
pushed to the left
then to the right
to the point of breaking,
But I don’t.
As the storm passes
calm returns once again.
I stand tall
battered and bruised
but stronger than before.
Bill Work © 2006