Close your eyes. Look for an old twisted tree standing alone in a place never touched by man. The moon is behind the tree. Interpret?

Winter, spring, summer and fall, The moon shines bright amongst them all, And then one spring, a tree it grew, In a place no human knew. The lone tree grew, his home apart, Far from man, a work of art, He stood alone beneath the sky, Knowing one day that he might die. A lone being of power and grace, The seasons came and left with haste, His leaves showed and then disappeared, Throughout nearly one hundred years. The moon still shone upon this tree, As if to say, I shine through Thee, I give you beauty, I grace your night, Until the end we shall unite. And then one spring, no leaves appeared, The tree stood crooked but had no fear, The winds of fall, the threat of winter, Could not bring his girth to splinter. The moon and tree never forsaken, No photograph was ever taken, Dried and fallen leaves they blew, And danced with joy, yet no one knew. With twisted limbs, it stood alone, The tree prevailed, the moon it shone, Whispering I’m behind you and above, Our spirits alone unite with love. -Joanne Moore