Uprooted

I've noticed an extraordinarily high number of uprooted trees in the Birmingham area, due to recent storms. Round every corner, I see big-A trees overturned as if they were empy tin cans. It's as though their deep-running underground veins didn't even put up a fight against the high gale winds that whipped through their branches. Now, they lay in straggly surrender, showing their undersides, exposing their weakness. They were once fixtures. Now, they're next years' firewood.

These trees mirror a situation all-too-familiar to many jobless people here, there and everywhere. What was once firm, stable, grounded has been felled. Overturned securities are appearing on every roadside. I could soon be joining them. Nothing is guaranteed.

What was sure yesterday, may not be tomorrow. I will bloom where I'm planted, and when or if it's time, be a new seed scattered.