Samanthe Sheffer's poem pictures a long, brutal stretch of wind battering a stand of trees. The big maples, cedars and firs take the worst of it, losing thick limbs that crash to the soaked ground and lie there like spears among the broken branches. Even the snapped limbs still carry fat leaf buds, which the speaker calls "fat with futile purpose": they are ready to grow on a branch that can no longer feed them.
The second stanza turns to smaller trees, an apple and a pear. They have no way to hide or run, so they simply lift their thin, see-through petals toward the wind. The comparison to moth's wings makes them seem delicate, yet the word "sturdy" suggests a quiet toughness.
The mood is bleak at first, with a heavy sense of endurance and waste. It softens into something close to admiration. The title, "Looks Like Faith," hints at how to read the ending: blooming in the face of such force is a kind of trust, even if the trees don't choose it.