The mighty oak tree softly speaks
with whispers in the wind
It does not ponder purpose
nor worry how or when.

It speaks of dark and stormy days
its struggle to stand tall
and how its mightiness began
with an acorn ever small.

It grows, with neither thought nor care
with branches dancing on the air
a tiny acorn hits the ground
in spring, an oak tree to be found.

I have listened to its wisdom
its message I shall heed
and live my life as though I too
am a carefully planted seed.