The tree is growing in a courtyard. Early morning sunlight glances off the stones and porcelain tiles. The shrubs among the rocks are wet with dew. Stone walls surround the courtyard on all sides. The tree and all that grows within the confines are unmoving, held like stately prisoners in their places.
Small birds move out along the branches and are gone.
The silence and the stillness mask the tree's persistent work. It stands beside the stonework, motionless, but underneath the ground its roots are seeking out new soil. The work is hidden, delicate. The tiny root hairs reach into the dark. The tender tip of every filament is inching outward in the earth.