The Hush Beneath the Oaks

The Hush Beneath the Oaks

The rain fell soft—
The world around me
hushed
beneath the oaks,
whose roots held fast
in ancient ground.

Older,
perhaps,
than memory itself.

And then you came,
a shimmer through the
misty rain
on steady
yellow wings.

No fear remained.

Only calm.

The quiet reassurance
that we were held.

Your presence wrapped
the moment
in peace—
a blur between this world
and somewhere unknown.

A soul
I have surely met
before.

Maybe in blood.
Maybe in memory.
Maybe in some
ancient place
where knowing
began.

You are the yellow
I have always loved,
the shade that blooms
when words fall short.

The light
in the things I keep.

If you come again,
bring the rain.

Bring the hush.

Bring the oaks.

Bring yourself.

And I will be listening.