Young Maple Tree

A young maple tree
Gladly supports a new life
A leaf sheltered nest.

It does not complain
Of the weight of added twigs
Nor speckled blue eggs.

Merely it is happy
To play a minuscule part
In gentle birdsong.

These contributors
To a benevolent world
Are everywhere.

So even on days
When freezing drizzle floats down
I can still have hope.

And thus I do see
All the dour, gray storm clouds
Raining down fresh sun.

I will never know
Why falling rain tastes so sweet
But why should I care?

I love it all the same.