Spring Song
 
The lilac by the window,
White clouds above the green,
Moves back and forth at random.
Simply as it is blown.
 
But I am not so simple,
Stand out against the wind
Too rigid, and resemble
A conqueror giving ground.
 
If I could be as rooted,
Fixed deep in gripping soil,
Might I not bend as lightly,
And the wind fail?