The elderly Blue Oak
near my front door
stands intact
with bark that hugs her girth
photosynthesis
coursing through her veins
molding the air around her
into a temple for her soul.
Were she to crumble and collapse
in a moment,
atmosphere in the shape of a Blue Oak
would fill the vacated space,
matter would slide through
where phloem once was,
substance would morn the loss
of tracheids and vessels,
content to cherish the heartbeat
of this still lasting goddess.
First published by Academy of the Heart and Mind January 2019