To The Oak

A little breeze was born

rippled the grass and the quiet water.



A little breeze was born

midst the tufted green and the silent blue.



A little breeze was born

sought the rounded pebble, the broken stone.



A little breeze was born

touched the sticky thistle, the new born sprout,

tumbled down the bank, paused, watching the quiet water,

scurried up the side, stopped again to see the silent blue,

hurried across the drying pebble and the broken stone.



A little breeze was born,

looked around to see what life was all about.



Higher now the breeze explored,

up over the boulder, down to the rotten log.

Wider now the breeze explored,

out across the sand, in and through the twisted vines.



Farther now the breeze explored;

along the top of a distant ridge, behind the rising hill.

Deeper now, there, the forest, dark, too dark-

hurry back-a drop of rain-around the fearful hill-

faster now, over the ridge-dusty sand-twisted vines,

finally, around the boulder and the rotted log.

Safely now the breeze returned to the quiet water and looked about;

the tufted green, the silent blue, pebble and stone, thistle and sprout.



The breeze gathered itself and became a gust,

now firm-now gentle-and with others joined.

Over the ridge, easy now, into the forest with a youthful lust,

determined up the graybrown wood

fiercely trembling a berry vine

softly now, not understood

released again-freedom-a taste of wine.

Hide and seek, together again and then alone-

a breeze no more, not yet a wind, alone.



The gust chuckled to itself and the world, then laughed out loud;

went joyfully through the days ruffling flower and meadow, running proud,

teasing the dandelion-bending the willow, rushing up the tree, high, very high-

-so high now-above the tree a wisp of white-very small-moved across the sky.

Down to an orchard, blossoms fragrant and fresh-whispering through

branches wet with morning-glistening in welcome, flowered, open to

the sun searches and turns, beckoning warmth within; an answer now

a question, restless gust flutters the blossom pure, soon a blossom

not, the gust ceases to be a gust.



The new wind left, as all new winds must…

up and above the forest, once dark, once vast, no longer so.

Out and across the plain, rising whorls of dust,

pushing smaller waves across a larger lake, molding a drift of snow

along a mountain range, finding soon enough that very little is

strange.



The new wind searched, as all new winds must,

no cloud too high, no ocean too vast, everything to see-everywhere

to go.



A full wind now, complete and knowing,

restless search goes on; proud musky pine along an oft seen ridge.

Tall fierce unbending pine and fir, beneath the full wind blowing.

Jumbled rock and broken hill, barren land, no small tree on this

swept ridge.



A full wind now, complete and knowing, continues its restless

blowing.



A full wind now, complete and knowing,

restless search goes on; graceful elm, shady maple in the fertile

valley.

Safe and inviting maple and elm, shaped and caressed by the full

wind blowing.

Quiet lazy river, gently rolling hill, a place to rest only, this

fertile valley.



A full wind now, complete and knowing, continues its restless

blowing.



A full wind now, complete and knowing

restless search goes on; fragile poplar, forgiving willow along the

side.

Tauntingly prim poplar, ever bending willow, broken and left, full

wind blowing.

Fast growing poplar, strangling willow bough, no stopping here,

full wind blowing.



A full wind now, complete and knowing, continues its restless

blowing.



A full wind now, complete and knowing, restless search goes on;

once again the tall proud pine, the barren ridge, buffeted and

blustery yet unbroken, no answer here, the full wind blowing.

Restless search goes on; once again the taunting poplar along the

side, broken again, part of an answer-the lusty breeze-once more

the full wind blowing.



A full wind now, complete and knowing,

with storm and fury, with anger and wrath.



Faced the full wind, complete and knowing.

Lulled the storm and fury, quieted the anger and wrath.

Soothed the restless spirit; then from knowledge without knowing,

spoke:

Long have I waited, long have I been...

to you I am known as the Oak.