Under the Oak Tree

Acorns burst from summer's heat 

As I sought my shelter in your coverings 

And in your warmth that gardens me, 

I ponder you in lucid dream. . . 

You found me, 

Carving a message from the start, 

Pulling me into a pointed path 

Under oaken branches chartered. 

A new destination: of longing, of harrow, 

Each layer bending beech, 

Alder: my marrow, 

Its seed once planted in love... 

Where Whitman had written mischievously, 

Where your hazel blinks, sprouted leaves, 

Of the solitude, the walk, the earth, the trees, 

A note of love my captain sings: 

My Dear, my dear! You are good enough, I see.