Even the trees bend their knees
toward the dawn when the winds
come in the night. They sense
the power in the zephyr grazing
their leaves, spiraling in patterns
with increased velocity, darkened
to the sinister forces they endure.
Their faith lies in the subtlety
of shared creation, their certainty
that life's cycle renders completion.
Bending toward the dawn, they know
that the light of photosynthesis
will beam on leaves tossed askew
restoring the vitality the Son gives.