Black against the light of day
And basking in the act of autumn,
The Oak now stripped of her troubles
Is left with her arms in all directions.
She is seemingly taller,
With her feet firmly in the earth
But trembles at my touch
As she awaits the chill of winter.
Do not be afraid, she stirs
Her limbs swaying in the gentle wind,
We must open our hearts to change
And trust that the sun will warm us.
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