The Large Oak by Steven Searcy

Just off the hilltop’s crest, he stands

reaching up and down. In the rain,

he does not cower or complain

but waits, receives with open hands.

He does not run or make demands.

In the wind, he laughs. In the sun

he sings. His work is never done.

Ever at rest, he folds his hands

and lifts a solemn word of praise

each of his hundred thousand days.

Steven Searcy lives with his wife and three sons in Atlanta, GA, where he works as an engineer in fiber optic telecommunications. His poetry has been published in Ekstasis, Reformed Journal, Fathom Magazine, Heart of Flesh, Green Ink Poetry, and Amethyst Review, among others. You can find him on Twitter @ithinkiamsteven