Is it not a paradox?
How does this tree,
this Live Oak,
with its thick dense trunk of hard wood
anchored securely in the earth,
stand tall, strong and proud
while its reclining, gnarly branches
stretch out and kneel humbly
against the ground?
How does it do both?
How does it be both–
tall and proud,
broad and humble?
How does it risk being itself?
So fully itself?
It can afford the twin risks
of humility and reverence.
Maybe someday I’ll hang a picture of this compelling tree,
and on those days when I walk that
precarious tightrope of frailty,
I’ll remember: Stay grounded.
On clear days the sun’s rays stream
through window-like spaces
between its branches,
illuminating the ground below with
a speckled mix of light and shade,
like life, to be sure. A mix.
Maybe one day I’ll sit under its canopy,
be present to its sanctuary-type presence,
and rest in its marvelous contradiction