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.