ROOTS

I stopped by where a man was digging at roots
to loose them where he wanted to make a hole,
and our conversation turned to the old palm tree
we both could see down by the bank of the river,
how is bends and sways in the strongest breeze
but doesn’t break because the roots hold firmly.

He said a man should be like that, so I asked how,
knowing the answer but knowing he wanted to say
something not about roots and trees but about me
and about him and about surviving strong storms.
I turned to go and the only thing I could think to say
was how amazing nature is. He said softly, God is.