We Dance Too Little

I have come to think that people are like trees: some bend and some break.  Some face down the fiercest of blows to spring back, tousle their hair and rise to new heights.  Others stand rigidly straining against those fearsome forces and finally, their centers dry and brittle, they crack and crash to the ground.  Then to lay rotting in the dirt to be forgotten and forlorn.
Let me dance! As the winds tug and push against me, Let me dance!  I may, with advancing age, feel the need to waltz instead of jig, but Let me Dance!  Let me scream rebellion to the storms that would see me topple over to never rise again, Let me Dance!  Let me feel the sap flowing in my branches, have the experience to sense when it will be a gentle storm and strength to face the onslaught of the fiercest gale. Let me Dance!
Let me sway in the gentle warm arms of a sunny day. Let me reach up to touch a moonlit sky. Let me weep as rains washes over me. Let me laugh as butterflies and birds play among my branches.