Ancient One,
your roots hold fast to the Earth drawing strength.

Your white hair
shimmers against the sun and speaks to me of wisdom.

Ancient One,
you rise through granite, claiming this space, standing ground.

Your gnarled branches reach out
across the rocks
holding Her close to you.

Old Wise One,
If I lay in your arms
will I be one with you?

Ancient One,
if I rest curled in your roots,
will I know wisdom too?

Ancient One,
for just this moment,
may I be with you?