In childhood days of dream, with grassy greens,
and swings we soared the warmest breeze,
in blue skies of laughter.
Under a canopy of wonder,
we laid under, O’ the hours of summer slumber,
the lazy slow of watching meadow flowers grow.
Spring it sings in budding greens and seeds
with rain and sun, the days you’ve grown
acorns planted for rebirth
I press my hands to your trunk
and feel myself divinely rooted to this earth.