The old oak tree on mulberry

Road, blossoms with

The purity and light of some

Long lost childhood wonders.

It’s great roots burrow

Into the Earth pike greedy fingers

Searching for trolls.

They weave through the soil

Like the stringy fragments

Of a shattered soul.

It’s great branches hold up

Young to the caping of the

Ever-watching sky,

Forever above the ever-sleeping

Placid bones below.

It was planted there in my youth

And like its roots,

I search for my place in this great

Open expanse if a world.

I grow, it grows.

I move, it moves.

I sigh, it sighs.

And together we live as if

One.