Under The Trees

In the ages past and times remembered,
my mind goes back and revels in the day
when, as a child, I knew of a large oak tree
that spread its canopy along my way.

How I loved its great beauty,
providing shade from the summer heat.
As kids we spread a blanket under it;
kicked off the shoes, to cool the feet.

Then as a pre-teen, we moved on;
there, a spreading maple where I could sit and dream,
with book in hand and oft times with pen,
as the sun moved in and out, casting her beam.

Moving again as a tender teen,
finding a new awaking in my life-- so sweet;
under a tree, I received my first kiss from a teenage Romeo,
under the mighty spreading oak on a river bank
where others also found respite to the sound of the rivers flow.

Then the 'love of my life' carved initials
of a future bride and groom
under the tree, by a houses edge;
kisses 'sweet and tender' under the sun and moon.

Then as a young family, we planted trees
to grow as the children grew;
recording a history of living and loving,
growing tall and stately, as the family it knew.

Then came the tree that over shadows
the grave of a son and husband laid to rest,
like an eagle spreading its mighty wings
as covering; laying as if in a dormant nest.

Since then, there have been many trees
that bring to the mind - remembering
of what used to be and is no more;
a tree 'without the song' that the birds should sing.

Then there was the tree of loving passion,
a tree without a nest or leaves;
no birds of happiness singing
is what my heart now believes.

It was a roman tree, blood soaked and cruel;
a symbol of human sin and yet of salvation
spreading its arms out to me
until my days are also done.

I came, like the child of yesterday,
into that shadow that could swallow the heat of hell
with the book of the living redeemed. My name now written
I can sing of the soul that is now well.

A tree where I felt the loving kiss
of a groom that's coming for me,
planting the seeds of eternal life
sprouting and growing in me ...

A tree where the roots grow deep,
as deep as the tree reaches to the sky,
that is strong enough to carry through any storm
and still stay standing high.

I love that old tree, on Calvary, preserved by God
somewhere in heaven's treasury;
With a book written in blood, with my name within -
a book of love with my history.

The tree so deeply rooted, so blessed
though filled with agony of grace,
the tree of protection and shelter
as big as my heart wishes to give it place.

There is shelter, love, beauty, and a place of prayer;
shadows for cooling of the heated heart, so filled with love ...
a tree of remembrances
planted by the hand from above.

© 2009 by Sandra Griffith
Author of: "God in My Attic"
This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits intact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.

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