Oak

Through the damp soil, the push of roots sprawl deeper into the warm essence of earth.
A mature oak I am.  With roots deep, ready to break apart the sterile, concrete world around me.
Still recovering from a brutal fire passed, my scars are no longer visible - just another ring tucked deep inside of me.
I am not that person anymore.  Yet she is still there, buried under years of re growth.
I  grow towards the Son, and offer my shade in return.

So lay as a beggar beneath my branches.
Eat the fruit that is birthed from the anatomy of all that I am.
Wild things, come to me. Nest in my hair, for I am unmoved.
Grow with me, let our roots entangle to become vitally united.
So instead of one tree, we can become a forest.