Mother Oak, Mother Time
Your canopy a home.
In the shade of outstretched arms
Dressed in moss,
Your girth sustains us.
In sun and storm, we cling to you
And pray in your shadow,
stretching to the stars.
As we sit for your truth
Of births, of deaths,
Of flags fallen and flags raised,
Of your bounty to friend and foe.
Your roots gorged with stories,
Your heavy limbs, laden with food,
We come to you.
Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard