Hope yet remains with Oak
It seems now, of course, that great hope still does grow tall with the oak.
These trees that time minds, mind time’s great beating tides.
Where a gardener, who stands her own footsteps,
Creates her own space, raises dark eyes
And black hands to the dusty skies,
To say, with those words that no one will forget…
And from the depths of Earth still left
Find a star from beneath the flowers
‘This time my brother is ours…’
From Pete's book of poetry, Natural Regeneration.