Another Day

I’m growing old

Like an oak tree.

I spread my limbs

To reach out to others,

To reach for the sky,

To carry a bird or squirrel.

Yes, I’m growing old

But I have a purpose about me!

I have knots in my roots.

I have places where some

Have cut me, severing my body.

But oh, to live and breathe

For a century!

I love the earth.

I love soil and rain and grass.

I love bees and beetles.

Oh, to be free!

Dangling from my branch

Is a rope swing

And a child holds on happily,

While he twists and turns

Swaying back and forth.

Oh, to be friendly!

I am growing old

But today I’m in victory!