The Oaks

The Oaks

I cannot pour out

What I do not contain

I cannot give away

What I do not possess

So why do I continue

Shaking this empty vessel

As hard as I possibly can

Trying to get the last drop

Out of something that was empty

So very long ago

What am I doing?

Don’t I know that I will tire in the shaking

To the point where I drop my jar

Shattering the ceramic everywhere

Scattering the good afar ?

Time to rest my vessel beneath the rain

Time to sit beneath the ethereal flow

Time to place the acorns in the earth

Water them so they will grow

For fruitfulness has never come

From awkward and vicious consumption

Of that which was meant to glow

I feed on everything that doesn’t matter

I discard everything that does

This one thing I know

There must be a vast reversal

There must be a complete, a universal shift

I must place my busy-ness in the ground to rest

And allow my rest to grow

In this way I will see and know

The wonder of the oaks



One Comment Add yours

  1. Amanda says:

    Wow, I relate to this very much relate!

    Poetry Blog:


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