Fleeting Time and Oak

My woods, my gentle comforters stretch to no confines but blue and to the sun. They surrounding me in shaded blankets, but unholding in the unbridled sense of it. It’s to my special spot I seated in fallen form meandering through the tall pasture waving sea-like, to the tree… my tree, I say in humbleness. Its ancientness anchored no longer to dark soil, its soul decomposing from whence it came. We sit together, I now above the bark. I rub wishing to gain wisdom of the why’s, where’s, and when. Many shades of shadows filled with greens waltz around me in goodly nature. The squirrel barks in dissatisfaction as he thinks he’s ruler in the upper canopy. Right here, right now, the Promised Land has been given me it leased me in my short time here. The gentle giants creaking in the breeze bemoaning; it seems to me in conversation as I ignorant in this realm. In contrasting, I can only listen as I know not the language of them. I unleash in the verbiage of the Oak, as I just a small man amongst these ancient ones. So, I come to sit soaking in their knowledge of noble guardians. It’s by just listening, watching, and breathing in deeply life. By darkness an event that’s transpired a million-million times, I rub the bark of my companions. I feel blessed to have been given the opportunity to have my vanishing lease on life. It ever so short my life like the distance walked to my man-made home. It a hovelled place really truth be told, just a few ticks of the world clock then I will be in past tense. It holds no majesty like the wooded forest. I slow down and live slowly always as it’s gone in a twinkling in the eyes of the beholder. So, I embrace the moments as most precious. By Renee Bousquet