Under the oak tree

On sometimes, I get out of bed at night.
I step outside and set my head down.

I slept soundly on these chilly fall nights beneath the protection of the large oak tree.

My head resting against its bark.
Things aren't all so black when you look up at the sky.

I can sense the oak breathing and living.
The leaves have a beating heart and are alive.

I pay closer attention and wonder what it has witnessed.
With its sage old bark and emerald-green leaves.

It draws closer to me. I sit there and pay attention to the ancient oak tree as it whispers to me in the leaves.

When looking up at the starry night sky, one is in awe. I sigh.

There is a cosmos outside that is far bigger than I am, yet home is where I belong.

I'll look into that someday. I'll reach out and touch every star and return to where you are.

Oh the things I'll see when I finally get outside.
I'll remain behind the large oak tree until then.

I laid in its embrace, safe. The evening is quiet.
It will always hug me and adore me.

Hush. It murmurs. As the moon rises, I close my eyes and start to float.

The tree advises quiet. Everything works out fine.
On that crisp September night, I let myself to vanish.

I also dream... I am far away, up in the sky.

exploring the larger than I universe...

She says to me in a hushed voice,
thus while I sleep, I dream

Under the oak tree