Under the Oak Trees
by Shariffa Keshavjee

I sit beneath the mighty oak,
My head resting against its ancient strength,
Surrendering to its resilience,
Trusting in the wisdom of its years.

Under the oak trees,
My body senses the gnarled roots below,
Acorns nestled in the earth,
Holding the promise of forests yet to be.

Moss and mushrooms peek through the fallen leaves,
Quietly flourishing in the shade.
An entire ecosystem unfolds,
A hidden world of life, renewal and wonder.

Here, in this stillness,
I find peace.
I breathe, I soften, I surrender.

Yet beyond what my eyes can see,
Mother Nature is weaving her intricate tapestry,
Creating beauty, nurturing life,
In ways far beyond my imagination.

I may not see the visiting birds
Or the squirrels darting among the branches,
Gathering, feasting, finding shelter.

Yet they are here, too,
Partaking in the beauty and abundance,
Each life connected, each being belonging.

And beneath this magnificent oak,
I am reminded that stillness is never empty,
That surrender is not inactivity,
And that even when nothing seems to happen,
Life is unfolding everywhere.



 

Return to: