[Written 2024-11-08]

Down by the sycamore tree,

Where the wind does fall.

Carrying our memory,

To the ocean tall.

Motion is a journey,

Even in the fall.

When we bend to our knee,

We will hear life’s call.

The parents have the chance to see,

Their babes break down the wall.

Roots deeper than the Earth,

But, there is room for all.