So there is this tree.  It spreads roots that rise and fall in the surrounding soil like little sculptures of water dragons flowing through the sea.  The wind comes, and the tree sways and leans a little, sometimes a lot.  Birds come, preen their feathers safely in its branches, and then fly away, refreshed for having visited.  Squirrels come and zipper through its boughs like visible laughter.  Sometimes the tree doesn’t expect the intensity of the wind that comes and it whirls in its place like a rooted top.  Sometimes it sways in the evening breeze, slow dancing in the arms of the sky, all night beneath the light of the moon.  Sometimes it scatters treasures into the wind, filling the river with golden coins.  Sometimes it sleeps, barren and dreaming, gathering snow on its shoulders.  Sometimes it blooms fresh buds full of promise and hope, fragrant–each bud a flower, each flower a fruit.  It stands, guarding the newborn’s window.  It reaches down to lift the children on its shoulders where they can daydream and watch the sky through the lattice of its branches.  Its strength stems from its roots, and its roots are named nobility, wonder, grace, determination, blessing, and generosity.  No matter the wind, no matter the season, it stands, sheltering any who wander near, completely secure in being held by the earth, the sky, and the sweeping arms of the galaxy.