An Oak tree stands upon a mountain.
No longer growing, its season long since gone. Roots embedded deep in the ground, upright, it waits.
A man and his wife look out their window, across the land they gaze. What shall be done with the tree they wonder. Nothing, they decide.
The standing one will let them know.
A mother alone, far away, looks off into the distance. Worry fills her heart. Winter is coming, times are hard, how will she keep her children warm. A sigh escapes her lips, too much to think about, isolated in her thoughts she closes her eyes to dream.
An Oak tree stands upon a mountain.
Years it has survived, the circle of time bringing the gift of life. His branches open, silently witnessing the miracle of Creation. Resting in trust, he waits for the prayer to come, already knowing the answer.
A mother alone, whispers words into the wind, speaks of hope to any who will listen. A man and his wife look out upon their land. A smile fills their heart. This is what they have been waiting for. Nobody is ever alone.
An Oak tree stands upon a mountain.
Grown from a tiny acorn, a young sapling becomes a mighty adult, knowing all along the sacred gift carried within. Through days of winter, spring, summer and fall he stood. The passing of years weathering his soul.
In Love, patient in Wisdom.
A mother warm by the fire, smiles into the eyes of her children. Long ago a tree was born, to satisfy a prayer not yet uttered. Perhaps, she muses, there is so much more then I can see. Appearing out of nowhere, a wealth of blessings have been in place all along. The magic of the Oak forever to live in her heart, a reminder of sacred connections, ancient and eternal.
Far away on a mountain, an acorn nestles in the earth.
A promise of greatness, a gift of beauty.
He awaits in Love, patient in Wisdom.
In Peaceful Gratitude,
~Raven
