The Aspens

by Ellen Farnsworth

Gathered in their whiteness,

They stare

with black eyes furrowed;

Their silver-dollar leaves haberdashing,

breezing ceaselessly with the wind;

Still, some reach up … up past the wind,

Standing stoicly

Straight and tall;

Others are harrowed … bent in the wind,

the rains,

the snows,

the changing times;

I will be one that stands strong,

Solid,

Growing upward,

Heavenward.