"It's more beautiful than I'd think.

No reservations, limited hesitations

Gone is the life, gone is the green

Still, though, it is beautiful.

Stark and bare, twisted hands

fingers worn down from a harsh wind.

Still, though, it is beautiful"

I was perusing through some old journals, and found this. I was confused, at first, because I had no idea what I was thinking when I wrote it, and then I remembered, and if my memory is correct, then this is about a tree...which kind of makes me laugh a lot.