Did you ever have, like me, a very favourite old oak tree?
That sheltered you, when you were young – strong branches climbed or, from ropes, swung?
Where creatures lived, lichens as well, and then, one windy day
an empty space,
one day, I visit that same place
Had I known
how wondrous large those roots had grown?
I thought I’d find it empty –
I find all life is there.
In falling, more’s revealed, unseen, that went beneath and in between
It’s not an end, a fallen tree – but part of continuity.
I know not what this means to you.
There’s something here feels Godly:
It’s complex, what it means to me.
in this fallen tree.