What is it that makes these trees so grand; Roots stand like veins reaching deeper, Kneeling to the belief in the past, Sturdy with resolve, arching from the earth; Branches twist and weave against an azure sky, The pattern of mystery written in leaves, Tune to the circles of the moon— Understanding all the storms that conspire— Happiness calls time softer upon their boughs; Where the lichen spools hang languorous;
Enveloping us like unheard narratives; Carved yet decorated timelessly, Their presence shines even when we fail to see.

• “The Grand Oaks”

• Laura Riding