This beech tree has it good. Deep enough roots to stand strong in the icy winds, and to feed it regularly during drought.
Its beauty ripens with age. Its a safe harbor and a home to many wild life.
If we, I, could just be planted with depth of dogma and love. To over look clouds that stray over my sunny receptors. And send a chill to my pith and bone.
I am prone to uprooting my truth. To ignoring the cup taken in ceremony. My age turns on my beauty, the inner mirror cracks with groans.
I fumble as I go back to the deeper one. Yet He is always there to guide; if only I could hear non other.
Aaaaa.. Planted by streams of living water. When can I take a drink? Knowing, persuading, releasing my own troubled soul of conflicts unresolved, hopes just not hopeing enough.
Eden I know your there……….