The Willow tree sings a song,
As it whips and slashes through wind.
It sounds as if it’s fighting, arguing,
The wind tears away branches,
Yet calls the Willow it’s friend.
A battle of whits and strength.
The branches know where to bend.
They take each blow with Grace.
They need neither your help, of mine.
For themselves, they can fend.
Primitive Poetry 
The willow may not need help, but still, reach out. It gives one strength and hope when they know they’ve got the support of a friend.
LikeLike
I can picture that willow tree, bending and holding together against the punishing wind. Sometimes we feel like we are in combat so we gain strength from the fighting willow tree.
LikeLike