• Hey I hear the willow tree sing
    It calls out against the harshly blowing breeze.
    The hill the willow sits on helps it stand its ground
    But the wind keeps shouting at it over and over.
    At this point, there is only so much help the ground can give,
    It has other things it must help stay tall.
    There is a white fence lying at the bottom,
    Without a care for what is going on around it.
    And why should it care?
    Nothing is going to come out of it if it does.
    Suddenly, the wind catches in the willow’s branches.
    They are something the willow has to protect by itself.
    Unfortunately, the willow has let the wind take control.
    The biggest branch on the willow snaps off its trunk.
    Leaves and wood that once were a part of a bigger picture lay dead.
    A splinter shows were the connection was once made.
    It is possible for the wound to heal, as it is possible to grow another branch.
    Or it may not even heal at all.
    But whether I like it or not, the willow has to make that choice.
    I cannot help it heal pain as great as this.
    I can give it the time and water it needs to heal, but not the power itself.
    The healing is left up to the willow and to the willow alone.