An Ode to the Quiet Tree

for the fathers who give, and still stand tall

He stood in the garden,

rooted and still—

offering shade when the sun burned too bright,

offering calm in the hush of the night.

Not one for big speeches,

not one for the show—

he gave what he had,

and asked little to know.

Apples, he offered—

his time, his days,

bearing our weight in a thousand small ways.

Like the Tree in the tale,

he gave and gave,

no medals, no headlines,

no one to save.

But love isn’t meant

to wear us thin,

to hollow us out

just to hold someone in.

So here’s to the fathers

who bend, who bear,

who stand like trees

when no one’s there.

We see your bark,

your quiet bruises,

your silent strength,

your patient uses.

You taught us to rise,

but forgot how to rest,

you held up the sky

and called it your best.

But even the strongest

deserve to be whole—

not cut down to serve,

not robbed of a role.

So take this, Dad—

a pause, a poem,

a thank you for being

the heart of our home.

We want you to thrive,

not just endure.

To keep your roots strong,

to feel safe, to feel sure.

Because love shouldn’t break you,

it should help you grow.

And we see you now.

We just want you to know.