Moved by its nature
And the nature around
Leaning left, posing no resistance.
Tomorrow may be right,
It has no preference.
Save when the wind silences.
It stands up straight, always
As if this were its true nature:
To be unmoved.
But true nature is not made to be alone.
What if the reed only stands straight
To be caught in the wind once more when it speaks?
Moving to be moved by something greater