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.