To a Friend
Little acorn on a great oak
Swayed, danced in the wind.
And the oak with all his boughs,
Danced along with the little leaf.
Roots he to hold the Earth,
Boughs he had to reach the sky,
Bark he had that no man pierced,
Shade for the way nearby.
Off, off the mighty oak
The acorn was plucked by the cruel wind,
The boughs broke,
The roots revolted,
The bark cracked,
To chase the acorn in the wind.
The wayfarer has no words,
But prayer to
The God of storms and trees -
In Heaven or Earth, plant this acorn,
And an oak, and friend it shall there be
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