This is a poem I wrote a couple summers ago. I thought you might enjoy it.
I was just a little tree; was just a little sprout.
I lived a life of luxury, with walls to keep pests out.
But in my walls so tall and deep, I could not see the sun.
And soon, if I had tried to keep my walls, I’d be undone.
And so my Planter dug me up, and though it scared me sore,
Did plant me where I could look up, and feel the sunlight more.
But then a mighty wind did blow, and bent me to the ground.
It shook my leaves quite violent, so my Planter did look down.
“Dear little tree,” He said to me, “Here in the sun you’ll grow.
And though the wind blows violently, I want it to be so.
For through the wind and through the rain, great strength will come to you.
And though if feels like you will break, it thickens your trunk through.
Now little tree, grow tall for Me, and bear your fruits each year;
For I am here to care for you, and calm your every fear.”
I am still a little tree, but though I am so small,
I know my Planter will keep me, and help me to grow tall.