Mother

I was birthed from your tree

From your stump I slivered

Slipping between branches

Your roots they quivered

I built myself of sticks

An acorn for a nose

I hide deep below dirt

My mama, will she know?

I was born from the oak

The circles The leaves

Listening to the buzz

The birds

The breeze

I was made from the branches

I swung my first steps

Will you catch me Mama,

hold me to rest