Oak and Beech

We step off the track and onto the field, to gather beneath an old oak tree.  Like children, we gaze into its canopy, and watch the flickering light spill down through the leaves.

Turning,

I look out across the field

to a beech that stands alone.

I walk towards its prescence,

and dip below its heavy boughs

where the ground is dry

and the air is still.

Within the bounds of this trees’ reach,

I’m grounded by its great endeavours,

my feet rooted in the brittle earth.