A new tree begins to grow from its seed.
How far will it grow?
Will the sun shine?
Will the green turn to strong brown bark?
Will the Winter strip its leaves and leave it bare to cold winds?
Will it be forever Spring, the rain a nourishment as well as the bright sunny days?
Will the Autumn come, the threat of a harsh Winter always around the corner?
For the little tree, it is too soon to yet know those words.
Two leaves do not even sprout from its tiny being.
Formed not yet, it looks up at the sky in its naive babyhood
It is a promise of a new beginning
It is hope
Lol, corny poem is corny. Its just how I'm feeling tonight.
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