Sapling

Swaddled in their cocoon I grow,

sprouting from the sugar crumb ground.

Softly kneaded to an airy bliss by those spooling above,

their opulent green bushels blanket me in a comforting cool, 

as a soft breeze brushes along my curled sprouts.

Nudging my pudgy limbs to grow, until they grasp

at the brown tangles just above.

But they come,

always they come.

With their rough boots a destructive trample,

a crushing weight on my paper thin limbs and delicate mind.

Their words distant as they shove me into the ground below,

towering above my shrunken form.

Ignorant to us, they are

as we shrink below their loft

until we are nothing but minor inconveniences in their path.

But she welcomes me,

tight into her warm embrace,

as I snuggle back into what is safe.