She, standing tall above the masses, high atop the grasses that sustain her; bends low, ensuring she will grow to live another day.
She’s cloaked beneath a roughened, toughened skin; designed to withstand time and climes that others could not.
She, camouflaged by nature to exist unseen, sees from her sky-high vantage point, what others cannot; thrives where others would not, should not.
She, gracefully ungainly and ungainly graceful, cleaves to her clan, nurtures her young and in so doing, ultimately survives.
Writing 201: Poetry, Day 3: Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme