crooked

I see a crooked branch, fallen from her tree.  

She is bent and split in directions that allowed her to see.

Her survival gave her curves and turns.

The sun guided her growth.

Fierce winds have severed her from her root and she lies there alone.

She begins to dry and die.

The elements will take her whole and use her to feed the soil.

She will be eaten, she will be trampled on, she will find her way back to those roots with the help of wind and water.