Silent Sentinels of Truth

The sweltering day is winding down
and the shadows are lengthening.
As the summer nears its solstice,
the activity in the trees
(even by the insects) has
succumbed to a lazy, dampened
sluggishness of seeking shade
from the intensity that still pierces
through the canopy of the grove.

Dappled now, the waning sunlight
glimmers like miniature beacons
amongst the undergrowth as a
barely-there-breeze
passes through the leaves.

Their stillness belies their discipline
as Watchmen in this quiet glade.
This grouping of oaks has been
steadfast sentries for hundreds
of years. Some have been lost to
old age and storms but most have
weathered What Has Come with
grace and fortitude.

They are the Silent Sentinels of Truth.
They yield when necessary without
betrayal. They hold steady without
defiance. Their boldness is tempered
by their enduring humility.
They abide without beliefs or religion
but serve and embrace all who
seek their refuge, looking to each
with equanimity.

These magnificent nobilities are
regal treasures to be revered.
They breathe and take sustenance,
grow and expand in awareness.
They begin soft and supple
riding the waves of squalls,
pliant to the extreme of
temperatures that threaten
their tender stems
and roots, but somehow thrive
and become dignified beings
of uprightness, integrity
and reliability.

Vero Oaks at Sunset; Artwork by Johnson Hagood

(The origin and history of the word “Vero” is from the Latin word vērus (“true”). As a noun it means “Truth” and as an adverb (Latin) it means “Truly, really in truth.” This appears to be universally “true,” EXCEPT IN FINNISH AND RAPA NUI.)

Visit Poets United for some quality writing and community with other writers.

Under the Canopy–Tree of Life

The tree of life
Has roots so sturdy
A steady base
Supporting all
A trunk is needed
To sustain each branch
Of myriad sizes
Each one a must

Tiny twigs
A limb becomes
Forking out
Diverging solid
Different directions
Taken by all

Freedom to grow
Brings strength to the whole

Though some may falter
And break away
The remaining bough
Makes up the altar
Each one relying
Through years of strife
Bearing what comes
Sustaining life

Though winds may blow
And trials lay waste
The tree stands firm
With yielding grace
It reaches high
Elevating itself
Fearless, bold, self-assured
Honorable, dignified and blessed

Join Bjorn Rudberg (Brudberg) over at dVerse Poets where he asks us to write on trees…Under the Canopy: http://dversepoets.com/2014/01/18/under-the-canopy-with-dverse-poetics/

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