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
it fell.

Expecting loss,
an empty space,
one day, I visit that same place
I stand,
amazed.

Had I known
how wondrous large those roots had grown?

I thought I’d find it empty –
bare.
Instead,
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:
true.

It’s complex, what it means to me.
There’s comfort
in this fallen tree.