No Matter What

I notice the majestic oak

in my peripheral sight

Has a rather large

“closest to the ground branch”

Big enough to launch

a treehouse mansion

or a thousand voices of victory.

Sadly, it is dead,

yet still hanging

attached to the trunk.

Unwell from this dead branch

and needing its own celebration

the rest of the heralding tree

races upward

toward God’s own breath.

Towering branches

fill the pastoral sky

Swaying

Humming

Lording

A peaceful protection

Over the comatose yet still-clinging branch

As though saying

“Stay.

We will stand with you.

No matter what.

You are not alone.”

Fawn Rising