An old oak

An old oak

An old oak stands in the forest.
He can see above the trees,
Looking out over the world
Through a hundred years
Of wind and clouds and birds.

A young flower kneels at his root.
She sees the sky through a canopy of knitted branches.
Her translucent petals flutter
as green light filters through the leaves.
Her life is short, fleeting;
Like a smile crossing a face at a distant memory.

The two make a natural pair.
Strength and beauty living in the harmony
of a thousand rustling leaves;
The sound rushing like a running brook.

The oak doesn’t need the flower, but he enjoys her delicate beauty.
He likes to think that some of the joy she brings comes from the protection and nourishment his roots and canopy supply.
He knows her life is fleeting.
He has supported many flowers in his long life in the forest.
Seeing many friends come and pass,
He knows the joy of life is worth the pain of loss.

The flower needs the oak.
His dark, tall strength lending her the protection she needs to bloom.
But there is no shame in her need.
Her delicate beauty enriches the life of the old, knobby oak
And in the blending
They find joy.

By Mindy Hirst