Angel Oak

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A single, chosen acorn
Simple, ordinary
As trifling a thing
As dirt or a pebble

Plucked by a blue jay
Carried and buried
On an early autumn morn
Sprouting in winter’s chill

A spring seedling arises
With flourishing flushes of leaves
Still seemingly simple, ordinary
Feeble and vulnerable

A young oak emerges
In the hot summer sun
And sets roots for years to come
Along the coast of Carolina

Hundreds of years pass
Now a soaring giantess
Stretches long, robust limbs out
Openly receiving the Lord’s light

How can one not have faith?
How can one not have wonder?
When the single, simple acorn
Becomes the grand, extraordinary oak.

photo credit: Reellady via photopin cc