The mighty oak from an acorn came,
Bursting, throbbing, growing in strain;
Pulled up by the light, pushed up by the rain.
It didn’t happen over night.
No stalwart man is instant made.
It takes pressure, decisions, days of shade;
Pulled up by prayer, pushed by reading, rare.
Small souls and fires quickly fade. -eab, 9/75
Written in Friendsville, Tennessee
Separate-Holy 