What the Boy Took From the Giving Tree

The gnarled oak spoke volumes to me,
in it's layers of wisdom.
But I refused to hear.

For years it gave me
rest in it's shade,
strength in it's food,
warmth and shelter from life's storms.

For years, I took it for granted,
not realizing it was my sentinel.
Forgetting the truths it had told,
I made my own way,
walking away the times I needed it most.

The wise learn from the experience of others.
Others, like me, only from our own.
Sometimes lessons are learned years apart
from when they are taught,
and sometimes not at all.

The old paths and trails that bend
and weave among our thickets,
are written and paved
with both sense and sensibility.

There is discernment in layered rings and peeling bark.
In missing branches and stumps.
There is experience that comes from weathering the storms,
and learning from the beauties of life.
There is forgiveness that heals the flaws,
both those that lie on the surface, and those deep within.

Love is unconditional, and goes both ways.
I will stay close, and not venture far.
I have all I want right here.

Copyright, 2010 The Bookish Kind

~Inspired by Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree"