My ADHD want's to be, a tree

If I were a tree, I would have thick deep roots that shot into the ground, wrapping around boulders and badgers and bugs. Depth, something I have never known would be my mantra. If I were a tree, I'd feed off of the warm earth where I would stay planted for hundreds of years, never moving, slowly rooting haughtily stable. My branches the only moving part, as if my hands and arms were carrying on a conversation with the wind. Explaining to the sun, that I was the one, who could always be relied upon. If I were a tree.
But no. ADHD, yes that's me.
I am a feather, blown by a fickle wind. Spinning through orchards and fields, never knowing, never growing, never stopping...for long. I am a feather. Blown high and low, with no rhyme nor reason, disregarding season, just blown, from here to there, to there, to there, to there, seemingly without a care. But when I am downed by a saturating rain, I envy the tree, how would it be, if that were me? Firmly planted like that tree? Whoosh, here I go again.

Tracy Nicolaus 2006