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.
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