Poems for the Smiling Heart

Oaks

The great oaks stand together
in the bareness of the late autumn forest
smiling knowingly

shapes of geometry
of constellations
of grandeur and history
proud of each knob
each twisted bough
each segment of bark
they have grown
in their two hundred years of living

“Here we are!” they call out
as the breeze flutters faithfully
around the smallest
and most recent
branch

“And where are you?” they ask
as I walk quietly
underneath
their naked splendour

“Home,” I reply reverently
and breathe in
the sweet and fragrant dampness
of a turning earth