Once I was the oak upon the hill, strong and resolute.
As the winds came, I sheltered the sheep beneath my boughs,
And with a low grumble stood still against the storm.

And a leaf fell.
And a twig snapped.
And a branch fell.
And my trunk cracked and I tumbled.

And so I thought,
I must not be an oak.

I pretended to be a palm.
I learned to bend, to twist, to turn.

In light winds the sheep still sheltered, but
In the storms I yelled, “run you fools run!”

Alone before the tempest
I would dance,
Swing wildly,
Toss my body, my mind, my soul
Against the ground and air, and yell
“I can withstand! I can withstand!”

And a fruit fell.
And a frond snapped.
And a branch fell.
And my trunk cracked and I tumbled.

And now?

From an acorn I grow anew,
Amongst the palms, the sycamores and the ashes.
The willows weep around me.
The holly bushes snare lovers ‘neath their thorns.
Our roots mix and our seeds mingle as
The sheep graze beneath the canopy.

So when the storms come
My oakish torso
Will take my share
As we raise our leaves to the heavens.

And the fruit shall grow.
And the leaves shall wave.
And the branches will soar
As our trunks worship the forest for our trees.