On a lonely hill I stand in plain view,
Reaching out to the heavens, blue.
People walk up to talk to me;
For I am known as the Wisdom Tree.
They ask for my guidance in choices they make
Hoping I’d show them which path to take.
I see desperation, despair and concern
In eyes that seek and hearts that yearn.
They notice my crooked shoulders, then
And wonder how I endure the pain when
I stand so serenely, old yet secured,
Under heavy load- all their troubles procured.
Then, all I do is whisper soft
With the wind rustling my leaves aloft.
In response to their questions, my answer the same
Each time and again I redeem my name:
See how I live, I survive and exist
Simply; I sway in the wind then resist,
Drink water from deep subterranean stock,
My roots are settled in solid rock.