A giant, ancient Oak tree dropped an acorn
Upon the solid earth beneath
Which, in promptness, was carried away
From that place by a bird on the wing
Dropped in a vast and peaceful meadow,
The acorn nestled into the earth and slept
And the rains came and soaked the ground
The sun’s nutritious rays fed it
And, deep inside the acorn’s core
A giant Oak yearned to be free from its prison
Sending a shoot and piercing the acorn’s skin
The Oak tree stretched its fingers
Upward through the soil
Reaching for the warmth, hungering for the light
And, from its darkened prison, the Oak sprang
Now, so many years later,
I stand beneath that majestic Oak
That once was a tiny acorn buried in the soil
I place my hand upon its vast and solid trunk
And swear I can feel a heart beat there
Contemplating the luminous azure of the sky above me
I see a common ground that the Oak and I share
The heavens nourish us both, equally
Miracles?
All one must do is open their eyes to see.
peace, wayf
