The Ancient Oak

by | Sep 24, 2009 | Poetry | 0 comments

The old oak tree stood alone
Shivering, shaking, stripped to the bone
Leaves all gone with the autumn air
Winds had blown, left him bare.
Men had come in the early morn
Talk of old wood, new wood to be born
Came with their axe came with their saw
Strong rubber boots and bright jackets they wore.

All around him decimation occurred
The oak tree, stayed silent, not saying a word.
They came to him at the end of the day
Needed to fell him to earn their pay
They sweated and toiled but try as they might
The old tree was blessed, by an ancient rite.
As darkness fell they laid down their tools
Wise of the ways, the men were no fools
Stood back in respect and bowed to the tree
Put on their jackets, went home for their tea.


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