Stopping to Hug An Oak by Ana Maria King Hillsborough County

A passing thought while strolling through the dale.

With their limbs , on hikes , I’ve bumped my head.

Roots caught my boot ,on the floor splayed I spread.

Passing glancing, perhaps giant nemesis they were.

But today I much prefer , an oak to a  fir.

The desire to give a heart felt hug did stir.

Beckoning up close, it got a hug.

When I stroked its textured limb ,no shrug.

I took it as an open  invitation.

Continued hugging it without  cessation.

Its crackled ridged  bark with tender  hand was felt.

My arms encircled the trunk where there was nothing svelte.

The giant  showered me with gently falling leaves.

And moved my  heart guarded by prejudice’s greaves .  (  heavy leather leg guards used against snake bites)

A solid  hug it did impart, melting the bark of my own heart.

Next time I’ll see an oak directly to its trunk I may dart,

The oak’s presence ,  has such a rugged appeal,

When you need a hug  turn to the oak, ,it’s  no a big deal.

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