“Tell me, what is strength?
For I long to know the bane.
Is it fighting young, eating well,
or walking in the rain?”
“No,” you say, “I’ll show you strength
farther than eye can see.
Emerald grass, clear paned glass
of humming wing of bee
reflect and grow in wind and snow
the beautiful strength I know.”
“But wars,” I say, “What have they
to do with green and wing?”
“That strength,” you say, “Is taught
by those who fought and sing.
My quiet strength runs deep and true.
Somewhere deep inside of you,
this silent strength holds your heart too.”
“I only wish,” I say in sigh,
“This elusive strength would cease to hide
then I would take it – spread it wide.”
“My dear,” you say with smile soft,
“Alas this dream is not far off,
for strength in nature planted here
points us to a country ever near.”