Statree

Trees aren’t known for growing stones
But one was done with leaves.
It sank its roots in iron bones
And broke from greener trees.

Sand grains grew on every branch,
Becoming pebbles then full grown rocks.
Every breeze chanced avalanche
Or at least a few hard knocks.

This tree grew best on dusty days,
Thrived in lifeless winter.
A living fossil in all grays
That bloomed when hardship entered.

As years gave way to ages
Tree grew a mountain with it at top.
Its Book of Life held stony pages
That were strange and asked – “Why stop?”