Today's thread in Writing in a Woman's Voice, a magical poem, "Singing Oaks" by Wendy Gist.

Singing Oaks 

by Wendy Gist

I am not the wind;
I am its cry.

I am not the sunlight;
I am the ripened peach.

I am not the murmuring current;
I am the creek.

I am not the scale’s rainbow;
I am the trout.

I am not the memory of;
I am the blush of the dying ember.

I am not the longhorn on the hill;
I am the roam.

I am not the rising;
I am the moon.

I am not the wind;
I am the singing oaks.

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Originally published by The Voices Project