Oak

by

M A Heathcote

Oak, when I was upon your limbs
I was no longer a boy
But part of your trunk and twigs
My leg become stronger
Steadfast like root entwined
In the mantle of heavens core

Oak, god-embalmed in your sap
And I his instrument played;
Like sky wind and earth;
Rolling in your arms of clay,
I’m just an acorn, an acorn
At rest waiting to grow_

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Within Us
by: John William McGrath III
from: Mesa, AZ, US

To visit all of M A Heathcote's poems, click HERE

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