Find your perfect mentor in a tree,
In something rooted firmly to the ground,
Free to soar up high into the heavens,
To reach for light, to shimmer, to astound,
Yet also to reach deep where none can see.
So might your roots explore the rich, dark soil
Even as your branches seek the sun,
Vested in the gift you have been given,
Evangelist of beauty, passionate one,
Not able to tell ecstasy from toil.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.