Dance of the Cypress

You are a coniferous conundrum

You don’t bend to the will of the wind

as your cone bearing cousins do

You don’t fight like the stubborn oak

desperate to keep his feet planted

You are not pushed over, thrown left or right

Rather you become one with the wind

Inviting it up to your sacred chambers

Allowing its unfettered presence underneath your blankets

Your wispy hairs catch in its breath

And you seem to float atop your gnarled trunk,

whose hardened clay has long been sculpted by time’s elements

Such bedfellows as sun, sky-fire, rain and earth

have done their worst, yet here you stand

Embracing the strongest enemy of them all

Allowing it to court you, woo you, sing to you, move you

And you flourish, triumphantly flaunting your beauty,

A woman for all seasons,

your grace is second only to

your brazen freedom of being,

as you exist in a realm

beyond the reach of oak and pine alike

Like a green flame reaching toward murky black waters

speckled by bright fairy dust

Who is your equal? Who can tie you down?

You toy with all our affections,

those who flock to your shelter

and those who gaze upon you through panes of glass

For you dance for a lover we can only imagine.


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