Your great arms suspended above
With fingers curling and twitching at the air,
Shading and hiding the lovers
Within the grasses below,
Who touch each other softly
And whisper vows with poetic lips.
They have chosen to sit beneath you
Because you will hold them in sanctuary,
For them to do this sacred work.
Thank you for allowing them to plant their seed
Beneath your mighty branches,
Within the dark soil of your roots,
Where a sprout of love will grow
And touch all things within the world.
This is my journey
— Nate Long “Owl”
Pen and ink with digital manipulation