You see my height and know not of my depth,
Which both honor the weather that I have weathered,
Which made the sturdy beauty standing before you today (if I might say).
Today I clue the presence and strength of this wind
As my leaves dance in the hiss of a harmony beyond.
The rest is but of dreams, as pleasant as it seems.
I drop seeds that contain the how’s and why’s,
And (at best) hope they land on fertile ground.
The rest is but of dreams, as frightening as it seems.
I see neither your height nor your depth.
But I am certain that you too are a weatherer of weather
And the sturdy beauty standing before me today (if I might say).
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