The Oak's Reply

I imagine its roots threading deep into clay and stone, holding fast while seasons whirl above.

I enjoy experimenting with different forms of poetry. The following poem is a haibun, which is a prose poem that “typically describes a setting, scene, or moment in an objective manner and follows the standard formal considerations of haiku.” (Source: Poetry Foundation, poetryfoundation.org)

I pause beneath the oak, its branches stretched wide as if to slow the sky itself. Around me, the world hums with speed: cars rushing, screens glowing, voices clipped short by schedules. With my hand braced against the sturdy trunk, I tell the tree how it feels to be swept along in currents I never chose, how each day seems to demand more than the last.

The oak listens. Its bark is rough, steady, unmoved by the urgency that presses against my chest. I imagine its roots threading deep into clay and stone, holding fast while seasons whirl above. “How do you stay calm?” I ask. The leaves answer with a patient rustle, reminding me that time is not a race but a rhythm.

The tree has no need to hurry. It grows at God’s own pace, and in its shade I am allowed to breathe slower, to remember that not everything must be done at once.

Like wind through oak leaves,
the world rushes past too fast,
but God roots in time.

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I would love to know what you think of this poem. If you are inspired to write a haibun of your own, please link to it in the comments.

Love,
Chrissy