The Cottonwood

The Cottonwood

At Grandfaher’s barn, close to the door, stood a giant cottonwood tree;

How it weathered the wind and stood in the storm was a wonder and marvel to me.

My grandfather said it was the strong roots, sinking down, holding fast to the ground;

For the earth never lost it when wind tore and tossed it, though lesser trees fell all around.

Grandfather said that, as the old tree, life will batter and bend us about;

But though the storms skake us, they never will break us if our roots are both anchored and stout.