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What the oak says

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Thu Apr 4th, 2019

I am an oak tree,

yet few will listen to me.

Back in the old days,

men knew my dignified ways,

treating me with love

as their eyes gazed up above,

knowing there’s beauty

in me and clouds poignantly

passing overhead

like cottony feather-bed

where their eyes would rest

amid midst of quiet quest

to discover self

not as thing-in-itself,

but as part of whole

landscape of a divine soul

linked to greater role

of being in love with all.