Polite Rebellion

I desire a soft spot to sit under this tree I know. Some fresh air would do well enough. A hug or some reassurance that life is going as scheduled would be warm and welcome. I saw a tree once in Georgia on my father's land. It was away and off in the distance. I thought it was beautiful and often would pause on the red and rocky road to gaze at it over there. I like the tree but it made me feel sad. The land was hilly and rolled into the woods. The tree lining was sparse and especially so near this one. It stood triumphantly and alone. Perhaps it was peric victory.