by Bill Keller
Don’t tell me bloodied but unbowed
or even bent but unbroken.
Green leaves aren’t meant for the ground;
arched trunks want to straighten.
What didn’t kill them still did them harm.
They might be tougher at the scar,
but let’s praise the tenderest limb,
the most easily moved,
swaying in any wind, alive
with the softest breezes….
