That great oak.

Lewis Kay-Thatcher
Feb 17 · 2 min read

It’s a funny thing,
To feel so small.
In more than just size,
But not belittled at all.

Like when you’re looking up in awe,
At the empire state from the ground floor,
Being a kid in the woods,
And climbing a wise old tree,
That great oak,
That’s been there for a century.

With its branches outstretched,
You’re looking up at it.
No idea how tall,
Might be the size of the grand canyon
Just the other way around — did
It just creak?

but with such volume.
It would speak,
“Don’t worry”, it would say,
“you can climb high”,
And lower an arm,
To lift me into the sky.

I don’t look down,
But out in front,
To the vistas,
And swirling skies,
And around
I don’t look down/
I’m not on that branch
I’ve grown my own roots,
I don’t look down.
But up at clouds passing,
At the moon above,
That’s out in the day,
And into the distance,

I’m not near the park all that often
But it’s that funny thing
About this great oak,
That when you need it
And when you’re feeling so small,
He’ll lift you up,
So you can stand,
Look around,
And feel so tall.

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