Lindsay Writes

Trees must be optimists.

In the freeze of February, they begin to hope.
Sending out the tiniest preparatory buds
Even as the wind chills the air around them.

It will be two months before they reveal even the faintest hints of green,
Before shoots unfurl into verdant shade.

But trees?
They’re ready and waiting.

Reaching their arms joyfully to the heavens,
Patiently, expectantly awaiting the new life the Sun will bring.
They know, down to the tips of of their roots,
The Goodness that is coming.

I’ve changed my mind, trees aren’t just optimists.

They’re towering monuments of faith.