September 26, 2021

mother oak

By Kat Myrman 
mother oak

she stands, deeply rooted
amidst a grove of shallow-footed 
firs, bursting with fruit; her evergreen 
friends taunting her as she blushes 
red, surrendering her modesty 
to the cool winds of autumn

what dreams she’ll dream when
winter comes, memories wakened
in the deep, dark loam, buried there
where only her roots can taste them,
memories of seasons past, of
seed-burst longing to breach the 
grave, to life, to feel the sun upon 
her face and the sweet seductive 
breeze, the thrill of greening

she stands, deeply rooted 
amidst a grove of shallow-footed 
firs, some felled by tempests, or the ax
destined to waste away to dust covered 
in gaudy baubles and tinsel, their 
ever-greenness an illusion laid 
bare at the altar of lost souls, and 
rendered to ash at vanity’s bonfire

yes, she stands, deeply rooted
in the bosom of she who keeps
this blue orb spinning, sailing
through a sea of sweet milk just
far enough from the sun not
to be consumed and close enough
to the moon to see her reflection,
light and shadow colliding, in
ecstasy, heart and soul all-knowing

~kat

-Inspired by a new book I’m reading… “Seeds From the Wild Verge” by Brendan Ellis Williams

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 26th, 2021 at 8:31 pm and tagged with , , , and posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Digital Art & Photos, Life Lessons, nature, Poetry, Random Thoughts and Musings, Spirituality. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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