The Aspens

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,
Growing upward,