I watch the catalpa sway.
Wind catching her leaves just beyond the window.
Planted after you passed.
She is taller than I, now.
Her roots--a lifeline that winds deep,
through rock and sand,
before finally meeting fertile soil.
She is here for the long haul.
Despite the wind that sways her.
The heat of sun that burns her.
Despite the loneliness the cold nights bring.
Or the weight of snow that pushes down upon her.
At times she may seem stark--bare even.
You may wonder what is left of her.
Yet she continues on.
She spreads her limbs to embrace the wind.
Even if doing so may hurt her.
She turns toward the sun to feel its light.
Even if doing so may dry her.
She allows the cold to seep into her trunk,
Even if doing so may chill her.
She does so, because that is what it is to live.
And like my love for you, little one, regardless of the elements, she grows.
Reaching up toward the heavens you now call home
--Kristin Binder 9/18/12