Persistence

Oh, small buddign blade, so verdant, lively and green;

You trudge along, during the harsh, bleak, unforgiving winter,

Working your way up through the cold crumbling dirt and

The entangled webs of roots below the withering tree.

You fight the icy blasts of rain and unrelenting wind

While others, looking just like you, will begin to grow during spring showers,

Under the warming sun, among blooming showers,

Stretching beneath the softly-caressing winds, among young saplings

Whose roots do not impede their ascension

And giants will not trample over them as they grow.

But they are not you, oh small budding blade, for they take the easy way out:

Budding at conventional times and then withering before the autumnal parade of colors,

Never to see the first snowflake float down through the sky.

You, little blade, too eager to wait; you grow now

Before all the others, among the fallen autumn leaves, before the snow falls.

All alone, bold and brave, by your own accord,

You fight for your life and the chance to live it;

And there you are, a mere inch above the limits of the ground,

So verdant, lively, and green.

Trudge along,

Trudge along,

Trudge along.