An oak tree spoke to me one day
While I walked along the muddy pond on Sunday,
A day of God, a day when people finally paid attention
To the world around them.
An oak tree spoke to me, beckoning me to come closer
To understand why it pointed across the lake with limbs now dead and fragile.
"I come to you through the winds," it said to me
"to offer my words of wisdom to such a young sapling.
I have stood here when men were brothers
And women were fierce, loyal, and brave.
I was the watcher of all that you see
Through the younger trees, the valley was I king."
I laid my head down for a moment, seeking
Comfort under the cooler shade, the twilight time now upon me.
I was neither here nor there but lost
Like so many others who dared to dream and step outside.
I slipped back to the time the tree spoke of
And I did see with my own eyes a different time, a more solemn time.
Men were kings and makers of the peace with other races and beings
While women walked with airs of dignity and love.
Dancing lights swirled around me
The Fae in their natural form before Men forgot.
An apple hung above me, shiny and red, my own food
To keep me nourished during this time of madness.
Two bites and my mouth could speak
The language of the Olde.
Perhaps I shall return when the apple has been digested
But soon I was no longer there but here
Standing under an oak tree
That spoke to me in winds.