Pulling and pushing in every direction;
Yet even a raging nor’easter cannot
Uplift or tear these tendrils from the soil.
Ridges along the bark rising toward the canopy,
Each a memory: sometimes nicked, sometimes untouched;
Inside, concentric rings reveal the years but not the truth;
Skin rugged when peeled left vulnerable, exposed.
As a sentence map, diagrammed: branches seemingly haphazard,
But each off-shoot shares a purpose to capture the light.
And in turn, the yellow orb provides nourishment,
Through the green-veined leaves.
Nature’s juice which travels a webbed network.
For like the oak tree, you rise from grounded roots,
But bend with the wind.
Your weathered, show signs of punishment;
Still you stand.
Arms; legs round and muscled reach for the sky, gather strength,
As your trunk holds despite setbacks, exposed truths;
Blood surges along labyrinthine veins, feeding your body,
While hardened memories softened by your inner nature,
Are fed by earth-bound senses and love’s light.