Beneath the boughs

Beneath the Boughs

Beneath the boughs, where silence grows,

The tree in quiet mercy shows

A shelter from the searing light,

A haven made of leaf and height.

Its arms outstretched in soft embrace,

It cools the earth, it slows our pace.

The shade it casts is more than rest—

It’s balm for burdened soul and chest.

Its roots run deep through stone and sod,

Drawing strength from rain and God.

And in return, it gifts us air,

A breath of life, a whispered prayer.

Each leaf a hand that feeds the ground,

Each fall a seed where hope is found.

Its bark, though scarred by storm and sun,

Stands firm until the day is done.

So may we learn from trunk and tree

What quiet strength and grace can be—

To nourish others, still and wide,

And bloom again, though time may chide.

Ronneth