Guardians

( a Quatern )


I often talk to God beneath the trees
When I go walking through the park alone.
And from the scatter’d sentinels, a breeze,
I stand among and feel that I belong.

He’s like a creature of the night each time
I often talk to God beneath the trees.
In dappl’d glow of moonlight’s subtle climb,
As tree-limb shadows help put me at ease.

The roots, the underground with all the keys;
A trunk is earth, the branches heaven’s own.
I often talk to God beneath the trees
That always have a way to guide me home.

To meditate, enlightenment they share.
As long as I have guardians like these,
Who channel all my secrets when I’m where
I often talk to God beneath the trees.