A Tree

It does not care about the rain
It does not care about the sun

It does not care to die
It does not care to live

It does not care to be pushed around by the wind
It does not care about losing a limb

Some lose their leaves, to die before winter, only to be reborn in the spring
Others do not care about winter

It is a punching bag for the world,
And yet it thrives, during its life

Accepting of all, everything, anything
Forging on to live, until death