oaks.

There is an oak tree in my backyard.

Strong and tall, she stands.

Rooted in all she is. Master of life and living.

Patient. She has known me.

Even be for I was. She’s known my heart beating. She’s known my heart break.

Questions who’s hearts struggle. She knows me for all I am.

As my seasons move around her, she stands.

She is an oak tree, and I am a bird.

I find my nest folded in the midst of her branches.

And if I find myself between different branches.

between different trees,

in a neighborhood I don’t know.

I find myself taking finding rest knowing

there is an oak tree in my backyard.

Art by René Wiley

poem by me.