Sunlight turned the oak leaves into gleaming emeralds. Its massive trunk had withstood the violent thunderstorm last night because its decade old roots had tunneled for miles unseen beneath us, taking hold of the ground as if in desperation, as if waiting on some phenomenon to take place which humans cannot see nor touch, but only feel deep in their souls like a glowing flame, kindled by wind, stoked by the breath of God. Ancient limbs swagger back and forth sending thousands of lustrous green stones into a nightmarish dance. I walk along its path hesitantly, without looking up again.
June 26, 2012
100 Words: Oak and Emerald