I Sat Beneath a Veteran Oak

I sat beneath a Veteran-oak, In awe of His strength— Here was a solid spirit! Sympathy you get from Willow, But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers, With forged bark — His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind… No chinks in this warrior-wood… “Divide and Conquer!” Then I thought of my Father— A cook at the end of the war—The Big One! You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones— When the commanders were through eating He was instructed to toss the leftovers From the belch of plates— Trashcans were in the alley, The steel that seems intrinsic to battles In one form or another— The hungry German children Would sneak pass the guards And line-up; My father would sneak pass his superiors And his honor To dispense carefully wrapped scraps… Well, soon the line was out into the street As my father was compelled to seek food From wherever he could steal, beg or barter To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag, And all hell down on my father, As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley), What in God’s Name are you doing? He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though… I looked up again at the old oak, Through the snarled branches Deep into the staunch soldier, Where I spied a nest In a small, compact fork— Having a canopy of extra leaves For shade and shelter from the wind— I smiled—hum… His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…