The wind brushes against the farthest reaching branches. The leaves rustle a tune, and the branches dance. The green and muddied colors clash with the grey sky. Your eyes begin at the highest point of the tree, and follow the twisted pathways that leads to the hard earth at its base. Along the way your eyes ride through the narrow alleys and streets of the trunk's bark. If you are lucky you might catch some of the insects who call this place home on their morning commute. You can see it's age and its struggles in the warps and growths. It endures. When your eyes finally make it to the bottom through the grass the true strength of it is revealed. The large roots jut from the ground in all directions a constant reminder of the will to survive. Before you lies grace and fortitude in perfect balance.