The Forest

If I were to go up to a tall oak tree
and grasp my arms around it's trunk
and squeeze and push and pull and lift,
I could not force the tree to sway.

And then on some windy, sunny day
I watch as invisible forces flow
through the thinner branches, causing
the whole tree to rock from their play.

I sit and watch these trees in their dance,
protected by glass and brick and clay,
and I realize that I am too small a girl
to try to force a tree to sway.